


Tempting Fate

by WynterTwylight



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Casinos, Cruise Ships, F/F, F/M, Gratuitous Suits, Heart to Hearts, M/M, Not, Vacation, all the ships on an actual ship, cisco and hartley wear uniforms, coldflash - Freeform, cruise ship au, flaming seafood, hot tub dominance battles, hotter than a tator tot, questionable use of powers, team flash is hot, waterslides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 95,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/pseuds/WynterTwylight
Summary: [ON TEMPORARY HIATUS]After Cisco vibes a mysterious golden artifact located on a remote island in the Caribbean, Team Flash decides they can use the vibe as an excuse to take a much-needed vacation on one of the world’s nicest cruise liners. However, once the team embarks on the weeklong voyage it takes to get to the artifact, they realize they aren’t the only ones intent on stealing it. To make matters worse, being stuck on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic with the Rogues isn’t the strangest thing that’s happening.AU where Eddie doesn’t shoot himself, Len and Mick aren’t currently with the Legends crew, season two has kinda happened, but it’s not really important, and some of the Rogues didn't die.





	1. Gold in the Rough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cardinalstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalstar/gifts).



> To my best fandom friend ever, CardinalStar, who dragged me into this ship in the first place. I told her that for her birthday I would get up off my ass and write her a coldflash one-shot. 
> 
> That didn't happen....because I wrote her a multichaptered fic--Wynter what have you done??? 
> 
> So happy birthday, Star. Putting some of your favorite ships on an actual ship is the least I can do.

_There’s a crowd with many people._

_They’re swirling, moving, pulsing._

_It’s loud, and there is_

_So._

_Much._

_Noise._

_The mass of people moves apart to reveal a cubic glass construct that is strong and unmoving._

_Inside of the glass case, gold comes into focus._

_It centers and shifts to blink and flicker thrice in a manner reminiscent of candlelight._

_The light dances on walls that are made of stone and the view changes._

_After an onslaught of crackling light, there is a sunset that appears._

_The watercolors of the sky dance and then fade, replaced by waves._

_The water is crashing, the liquid blue and clear as—_

“The Caribbean.” Cisco blurts out, snapping his eyes shut and then opening them again. He throws off his goggles and leans forward on the table, grabbing the bucket that had one purpose and one purpose only: to be available to Cisco when he inevitably needed to vomit after his vibes. He promptly dry heaves into the bucket, over and over and over, until the nausea comes to pass. Because of this, he doesn’t see Barry when the speedster runs forward, lightning flickering at his heels as the goggles are caught before they can crash to the floor.

“Do you know where in the Caribbean specifically?” Barry’s voice is careful as he sets the goggles down on the counter closest to Cisco before turning around to face the others. Once he knows that Cisco is done vomiting, Barry flashes away and returns with a chilled bottle of water and an equally cold washcloth. Cisco takes them both gladly, trying to shake off the effects of the vision. Once he downs half the water and finishes wiping his face, he leaves the washcloth behind him, and starts walking around the room and emphasizing his words by gesturing with the water bottle. He’s still shaking, but Barry and Caitlin pretend not to notice. They are used to this by now.

“No, but this thing, that I keep seeing, and apparently _need,_ is made of gold. It reminds me of, well, it—” Cisco pauses and takes another sip of his water, “—looks like a mask, and it’s in this super high tech glass case in this stone room. There were a ton of people, and it just sat there, safe in its box.”

Cisco finishes the water and replaces the cap after collapsing the bottle, and tosses it easily into a nearby waste bin. He gives himself one fist pump to celebrate, and then moves on.

“For sure, I got the feeling that it was in the Caribbean, somewhere.” His fingers move to massage his temples as he thinks. “—I just don’t know where.” He huffs in frustration before he grabs his goggles, mentally preparing to go back into the realm of the vibe again. He checks for any damages that may have occurred when he threw them off of his face earlier. Lucky for him, Barry had been there to catch them, but there was one portion that would need to be adjusted before he used them again. He tells himself that he should add shock absorbers to impact-prone areas because next time, Barry may not be there to catch the goggles before they crash to the floor.

Cisco looks over at Caitlin, whose fingers are clicking away on the keyboard of one of the computers in the Cortex.

“While that narrows it down,” Caitlin says, “we still need to find out where this artifact is.”

Cisco’s vibes about the “artifact” started about a month ago. It began as a short burst of light that only lasted a few seconds. As such, Cisco didn’t think much about it because in the grand scheme of Cisco’s career _as_ Vibe, a few seconds of indiscernible light was _nothing._

Then the vibe evolved into a vision that lasted half a minute, and he mentioned it in passing to Caitlin and Barry. They asked what he was seeing, but even _he_ didn’t know what the vibe meant. To him it was just a bunch of irregular light patterns and sounds that he wasn’t able to describe in words.

He wasn’t _concerned_ until the vibe started creeping into his dreams. In the last week, it turned into an intense nightmare, and Cisco started waking up shaking in a cold sweat with a pounding headache. _That_ part ceased only after he threw up, but the headache usually kept him from sleeping for the rest of the night. The vibe had devolved to a horrifying and _very_ disorienting mess of gold and stone and reflections that while terrifying, was finally starting to hold _some_ level of meaning.

He made it a whole week before it got to be too much to bear. Then Harry found out about it, and suggested that Cisco try to induce the vibe in a controlled setting to get more information. Cisco immediately refused, not wanting to dive back into the depths of his now-terrifying visions. It took some coaxing before he actually _did_ agree to it, but only if Caitlin and Barry were the only ones present in the room with him when he did attempt to induce it. Cisco accepted the inevitable headache in the hopes for a solution, along with kindly asking Barry to grab a bucket to prepare for the nausea.

After going back in a few times, Cisco zeroed in on a location, and if his intuition was correct—and it _always_ was—the source of the vibe was somewhere in the Caribbean.

Without warning, Caitlin transfers the display of her desktop onto one of the large flat-screens that hangs on a nearby wall. Barry and Cisco turn their heads in unison, and Cisco’s mouth drops open.

“Does it look like this?” She references the image on the screen, a golden helmet not unlike that of what Cisco had described. Cisco stares at Caitlin in shock. She had found—in less than a minute, _by the way_ —the object that had been the bane of his existence for the past four weeks. To Cisco, staring at the photo of the mask was like finding the ghost hidden in the shadows or finally observing the metaphorical boogeyman in his closet, because at last, he was seeing the source of the recent nightmares that plagued him relentlessly.

“Yeah, that’s it.” is all he can say.

Caitlin goes right back to typing, taking down the display so that she can work in a little more privacy. The clicking soon stops, and she speaks again.

“It’s on an island, in the Caribbean.” She continues. Cisco glows at that. “The Isle of Fate, as it’s known by cartographers.”

Barry coils, tensing. He looks ready to bolt.

“And where is this Isle of Fate?” The speedster asks.

“It’s a remote place,” She sends a map to the television screen. “It’s in the middle of a wide expanse of water and—” Her eyes stare right through Barry, reading his thoughts. “—I’m sure you _could_ run there, but our comms wouldn’t reach. It’s too far away and you wouldn’t have our support.”

“Even with the satellites?” Barry’s tone is hopeful.

“Yes, even with the satellites.” Caitlin answers. She watches Barry’s face fall, and slowly, he relaxes and returns to leaning back on the counter. “But—” she takes a moment to switch windows, and another webpage appears. “—there is one way it is accessible.”

Cisco stares at the flat screen in shock and when he finally speaks, his voice is almost a squeak. “ _It’s accessible only by going on a week long cruise in the Caribbean!?_ ”

Cisco would dare say Caitlin looks _smug._

“The Isle of Fate is owned by Royalty Cruises.” She explains proudly. “It takes a week to sail to the island on one of their liners, and they’re the _only_ cruise line that offers visitation to the island. Planes and other boats don’t have the necessary permissions, so only cruise liners owned by Royalty have the security clearance required to drop anchor on the island. Because of this, Royalty has exclusive viewing rights to the artifact.”

Cisco can’t control the grin that spreads across his face. His eyes dash from Barry’s to Caitlin’s, and then back to the images on the flat-screen.

“I think Team Flash is going to the Caribbean.” Cisco states.

“Whoa, hang on.” Barry holds out a hand, signaling to everyone to hold their horses. “When’s the next voyage, Cait?”

Caitlin doesn’t hesitate. “This Friday.” She answers. It’s currently Sunday. “Boarding starts at 8 AM, and the anchor is pulled up at 4 PM that afternoon.” She says. “The ship is named _Fate of the Seas.”_ Cisco snorts at that, knowing he could have named a ship better than _‘Fate of the Seas’_ easily. _“_ It sets sail straight out of the harbor right here in Central City. I _can_ get us rooms. The ship isn’t booked entirely by any means. It appears to only be at 84% capacity as of now, and many of the larger accommodations aren’t currently booked.”

“Put it on the S.T.A.R. Labs account.” Barry instructs. “Whatever needs to be done, we are going to get this damn mask so that Cisco can finally rest.” Barry looks over at his friend, and Cisco can hardly believe—even after all this time and _everything_ that has happened—that Barry cares enough to try and help him solve his problems, no matter how big or small they may be. Cisco lets himself smile, and Barry grins back at him.

“Could we dare call this a vacation?” Cisco asks tentatively. “I’m sure the vibes won’t stop, but vibing this _bullshit_ while relaxing in a Jacuzzi is better than vibing the _exact same bullshit_ while sitting at my desk in my lab while I’m fixing Barry’s suit.”

“We _could_ use a vacation.” Caitlin agrees.

“Like I said, charge it to the S.T.A.R. Labs account. Make it nice. It’s not like we don’t have the funds to pay for it. After all—” Barry’s tone suddenly tinges with distaste, and he nearly spits the next word, “— _Thawne_ did leave me with quite the fortune. Spend it. Make _one_ good thing come out of the shitty inheritance I got unwillingly shoved at me after that bastard got what was coming to him.”

Caitlin nods once and turns off the screen as the typing resumes. Her eyes focus in on her work, and she starts to mentally remove herself from the room.

“One more thing, Cait,” Barry says before she’s completely absent, “since we have decided this _is_ a vacation… does it have to be just us three?”

“You’re the CEO dude, you tell us.” Cisco answers for her, holding up his hands to signify that the ball is in Barry’s court.

“I can book us a suite, if you want.” Caitlin suggests quietly from behind her computer.

“How many does one of them sleep?” Barry asks.

“Most of them only sleep 4, but there’s one option that sleeps 8-10.” Caitlin answers. “It’s three rooms put together basically _and_ it has an outdoor balcony and a room with a flat screen. So if we want to bring along other people, I can book us this suite.”

“Well, we might benefit from Iris and Eddie joining us.” Barry says, “I think maybe Harry, and Jesse could come. We could even ask Wally.” He looks to Cisco for approval, and is that Barry asking for _permission_ from _him?_

“As long as the focus is still on this mask, I am fine with whatever.” Cisco tells him. “I just want to sleep a full night again.” His voice is fraught with exhaustion as it is, and Caitlin and Barry can tell the vibe is taking a toll on him.

“Wait,” Barry abruptly pushes himself off the table as he realizes something he hadn’t caught on to before, “are we _stealing_ this thing?”

“I think we will be borrowing it, but not entirely sure.” Caitlin says. They all know that chasing one of Cisco’s vibes has the potential to be dangerous territory. They had done it before, and it hadn’t ended well. But they can hardly complain right now, when Flash business finally means having an excuse to take a _week long cruise_ in the Caribbean instead of relentlessly trying to stop a metahuman or hunting down yet another evil speedster. Chasing this vibe is safe _,_ and they all need a break.

“I don’t question the vibes,” Cisco tells him. “I just know we have to get to that mask, because if we don’t, bad things will happen. That’s what I know, and I’m _not_ challenging that.” Cisco shudders, remembering the sickening feeling of dread that falls over him whenever the vibe takes him over. “We have make it stop, and if that means stealing the mask, for now it _has_ to be for the right reasons. Just… trust me, okay?”

The speedster nods, because _of course_ Barry trusts him.

“Alright, as long as we are sure it’s necessary, let’s do this.” Barry says with gusto. “I’ll ask Wally. Cisco you can ask Harry and Jesse—”

“—dude _why_ —” Cisco interjects and Barry ignores his protests.

“—and Caitlin, if you can ask Iris and Eddie we can see who is available on such short notice and who isn’t.”

Barry’s grin is _almost_ as bad as Cisco’s.

“It looks like Team Flash is going to the Caribbean.” The speedster says with beautiful finality.

~

Surprisingly, it isn’t Caitlin who packs too many bags, it’s Cisco, and his luggage contents are questioned profusely after Caitlin unzips one of the bags that is just _too damn heavy._ She exhales in annoyance once she learns that the bag is full of Cisco’s hair products.

“I have longer hair than you and I still need less product.” She says.

Cisco defends his luscious locks immediately, arguing that his hair “doesn’t style itself”, that “normal shampoo makes it brittle”, that he “needs _that_ kind of conditioner to keep it soft and silky because any other kind _just doesn’t work right”_. She didn’t even try arguing with him about the numerous deep-conditioning treatments, hair putties, pastes, and gels that she also found in the bag. She is tempted to question him about his choice of brand of mousse—it’s Garnier Fructis—but refrains.

He fiercely protects the rest of his collection of genuine leather bags and their contents, closing the offending one before Caitlin can further complain about his choice of travel belongings. Caitlin herself sports a Vera Bradley patterned duffle set, all of which are reasonably and sensibly packed. In addition, she has a matching purse to go along with the pink floral theme of her luggage, which suits her nicely. She grabs Cisco’s bags from him and opts to toss them unceremoniously on the top of the neat pile she has so carefully constructed in the back of one of S.T.A.R. Labs many company vehicles.

They had chosen a large van to drive to the harbor, since it had room for everyone to sit, and plenty of space in the back for all their luggage. Everyone had immediately agreed to joining Caitlin, Cisco, and Barry on their adventure to the Caribbean.

Caitlin ignores Cisco’s gripes and shuts the trunk, refusing to flinch when it slams closed with a _clang!_ Caitlin sighs again, this time more out of exhaustion than annoyance and frustration.

She peers into the back of the van through the rear windows, mentally making sure that the pile doesn’t have any potential to slide around. Once she is satisfied, she climbs into the passenger’s side of the car and settles into the seat, turning on the car in order to boot up the air conditioner to get some air ventilation moving through the small space. It’s hot outside, and as much relief as she knows she will get later, there is still half and hour to go before that _if_ there is no traffic. Knowing that half hour is to be spent enduring a hot ride in one of S.T.A.R. Labs’ official caravans isn’t enjoyable in the slightest.

Joining her only a few seconds later, Cisco opens up the driver’s side door and passive aggressively slams it closed immediately in an act of retaliation against Caitlin’s earlier shutting of the back doors. He makes sure it was loud.

“Just saying,” Cisco pipes up, speaking to Caitlin, “my hair may not be as long as yours, but it is way thicker, so—”

“Ramon,” Harry interrupts him and Cisco rolls his eyes automatically, “your hair is not that special.”

“You’re one to talk, _Harry,”_ Cisco adds, turning around in the driver’s seat to face the older man. “You can’t tell me that your ‘floof’ just happens.”

“It’s the result of hair gel and a little teasing. But I don’t use nearly as much product as you do.” Harry says, “Now, can we get driving?” Cisco glares at Harry, who is currently sitting in the row directly behind Cisco in the backseat. Harry is situated in between Jesse and Wally with his pulse rifle in his lap. Cisco doesn’t know _how_ he is going to get _that_ on the cruise ship, but if Cisco knows Harry—and he is pretty sure he knows him well by now—he would have found a way to do so long before now.

“Only if you _shut the f_ —” Cisco cuts off with a yelp and nearly hits his head on the roof of the van when he jumps up in surprise. “Barry, you _gotta_ stop doing that, man!”

The speedster flashes into the remaining space in the row of seats behind the two Wells and a West after phasing though the damn door _again._ Barry tosses a single backpack into the floor, a bag that most certainly contains the Flash suit along with other necessities. Iris and Eddie sit next to him, definitely _not_ at ease with Barry’s sudden appearance.

Barry laughs and leans back as he straps in his seatbelt.

“Sorry, Cisco!” Barry apologizes. “Is everyone okay?” Caitlin had quieted almost instantly when Barry had popped into the car. She doesn’t startle easy, but that doesn’t mean she will _ever_ stop being surprised when there is _suddenly another human being in the van with them that hadn’t been there before_. She doesn’t appreciate it when everything isn’t in its nicely labeled box, and Barry, as usual, is unlabeled and unboxed.

“I’m fine, let’s just get going.” She takes a breath, and then inhales again, and finally turns to look back at Barry. “Are you sure one bag is going to take care of you for the whole week?” He returns her gaze with a soft smile from the back of the caravan.

“Absolutely.” He replies then turns to Cisco. “Now, Cisco, _drive.”_

“Why is everyone telling me what to do all of the sud—” Cisco says, very, _very_ annoyed.

“Just drive, Cisco!” Everyone else shouts at him in unison.

Cisco drives.


	2. The Fate of the Seas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support! All the comments I got on the first chapter were lovely, and I can't believe how _nice_ this fandom is. It keeps me going, I swear. Thanks to all of those who gave me kudos too, like, seriously thank you. It means _the world_ to me. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist for this chapter includes but is not limited to, ["Uptown Funk"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPf0YbXqDm0) by Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars, ["Poker Face"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bESGLojNYSo) by Lady Gaga, and [ "I'm on a Boat"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avaSdC0QOUM) by The Lonely Island.
> 
> <3 you all and thanks for reading!

Less than two minutes later, Cisco cranks up his tunes much to the chagrin of _everyone_ in the van. The result creates a musical atmosphere that while far too hype for a company car _,_ is _perfect_ for the prequel to a vacation.

Just maybe not Barry’s vacation.

“Cisco, come on, play something else. Seriously? Lady Gaga, again?” the speedster says.

“Hey don’t bash ‘Poker Face’ it’s an American classic! And,” Cisco defends and his tone gains an accusatory quality, “If I recall, during a coma you once had,” They all know _exactly_ what coma Cisco is referring to, “This was the music you enjoyed at the time, and _this_ was the song that was playing when you finally woke up.”

Barry blanches at the reminder. “To be fair, I was a captive audience then, Cisco,” Barry argues back, making a mental note to update his musical preferences on Facebook as soon as humanly possible.

“Are you not part of one now?” In the rearview mirror, Barry sees Cisco raise one eyebrow and smirk. His own brows furrow in anger.

“I could just run—” Barry begins.

Cisco turns on ‘Uptown Funk’ and Barry shuts up.

Barry spends the next few minutes avoiding the insatiable urge to dance along to the song, even if all he does is move his arms around a bit in the back of the van. None of this is lost on Cisco as he watches with a smug expression on his face. This continues for the next half hour, and Barry grits his teeth though Cisco’s musical selections. When the _Star Wars_ theme finally ends—and Cisco dramatically hummed the _entire_ thing _—_ the speedster orders Cisco to turn off the music.

“No way dude. Driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole,” Cisco retaliates.

“Did you just modify a quote from _Supernatural_?” Iris asks.

“You bet I did.”

_Of course she would recognize it,_ Barry thinks.

“How long have you been hanging on to that one?” Harry asks him.

“Too long,” Cisco replies.

“Just trust me, Cisco.” Barry says.

“Nope, the rule stands.”

“What about ‘The Vacation Song’?”

Cisco cuts off the music. “Oh, _hell_ yes.”

“The _what_ now?” Harry asks with a quizzical look.

“Not this again.” Next to Barry, Iris facepalms and then promptly proceeds to whack Eddie’s shoulder as he grins, apparently thrilled to be part of a new tradition.

“Alright here we go! One, two, three!” Barry intones.

“We’re on vacation!” Cisco joins in, and between the two of them, the van is suddenly filled with joyous noise.

“We’re on vacation!” Barry and Cisco sing by themselves.

“V-A—” Wally and Jesse exchange a glance of mutual embarrassment. Harry’s grip on his pulse rifle tightens.

“C-A—” Eddie gets the drift of the song and joins in. Iris blushes to her collarbone.

“—tion! Vacation!” The three throw up their arms as they sing the last word of the song. Cisco momentarily removes his hands from the wheel while Eddie proudly raises his own. Everyone else is just relieved it is over.

“Here we are!” Caitlin announces gleefully, closing out the GPS application on her phone and ending any remaining traces of ‘The Vacation Song’ as the van rounds the turn straight into the Central City harbor. “All aboard, ladies and gentlemen!”

In front, directly in their line of sight, is the biggest, brightest, most ostentatious cruise liner that everyone in the van has ever laid eyes on. A waterslide on the top deck grabs Cisco’s immediate attention. From the laminated and skillfully bound itinerary Caitlin hands them, all of Team Flash knows that this ship has sixteen decks with numerous bars on different floors, multiple pools, a massive casino, and not one, but _two_ spas, amongst many other amenities that the _Fate of the Seas_ has to offer.

Cisco parks the van, and tells the rest of the passengers to hurry with the bags, because he has all of their boarding passes loaded up and ready on his phone. This is only thanks to Caitlin’s detailed email she sent them all the night before, complete with links to all content in the itinerary, just in case anyone loses their souvenir copy.

“Guys come on, we have to get there before everyone else does!” Cisco grabs his last bag out of the van, slams all the doors shut, and locks the vehicle.

“Cisco, the ship isn’t going to leave without us. Not yet, at least,” Barry says.

“Barry’s right. We still have another hour or so before we _have_ to be on board,” Caitlin adds.

“But we’re going to miss all the free food that’s waiting for us when we board early! I _need_ my shrimp cocktail and shitty cruise ship enchiladas.” Cisco is still urging them towards the ship. The man is nearly jumping up and down when they finally get to the fold out ramp where the group can cross over the harbor to board the ship itself.

Caitlin drops her bags the second they get through the door and she turns around, motioning extravagantly to the large lobby around them, which didn’t have just one, but _multiple_ chandeliers.

“Welcome to the first annual S.T.A.R. Labs Company Retreat!” She squeals as she spins in a circle.

“Thanks to Eobard Thawne for this one,” Cisco mutters. “May he _never_ rest in peace.”

He backpedals when Caitlin gives him a wary look as Cisco watches Barry’s face deadpans at the mention of the man’s name alone.

“Thanks to Barry for this one! The current CEO of the whole shebang responsible for the funds for this trip and the guy who pays my payroll!” Cisco lets out a nervous chuckle, more a squeak than an actual laugh.

Barry walks right up next to him and claps him on the back. Cisco flinches and Harry smirks at his reaction.

“No problem buddy,” Barry says, with a sugary sweet and _very_ fake smile.

“Our staterooms are this way! Thanks again, Barry.” Caitlin smiles warmly at him and leads the way to the elevators towards the stern of the ship, waving the envelope that contains the golden keycards to their room in her hand that Jesse retrieved from one of the _Fate of the Seas_ employees.

“And thank _you,_ Dr. Snow,” Barry lets his voice take on a playfully formal tone. He bows dramatically. “For organizing and planning out this whole trip.” He picks up the bags, and tosses one of Cisco’s many duffels towards him. It collides with his chest, and Cisco glares at Barry.

“Tell me that bag isn’t filled with hair products and Twizzlers,” Barry pleads.

“I gotta be prepared dude, what if the ship doesn’t sell them anywhere and it crashes and then I’m _stranded_ in the middle of the damn ocean with no Twizzlers? You know I would die within hours.” Cisco blabbers, ignoring the continued questioning of his hair products. He holds the bag closer to his chest and protects it like a child.

“Your priorities are so skewed sometimes,” Barry declares.

Just then, a cruise employee walks up to them with two luggage carts, and asks if he can take their bags to their room. Caitlin agrees—speaking for the group. Barry and Harry insist on helping the man load them up. Harry keeps his single duffle close to him and Cisco is _convinced_ that just inside that bag is where he has hidden his pulse rifle. The bellhop rolls away.

“His priorities are skewed most of the time.” Caitlin recalls, and takes a few steps towards the elevators, hopeful. She doesn’t look back, expecting they will hastily follow her like a herd of lost ducklings.

Caitlin Snow—the mother duck that she is—puts her hands on her hips and smiles contently once all of her young are at their stateroom. She slides the keycard into the door. Barry and Cisco’s jaws drop open in shock. Harry stops in his tracks. Eddie and Iris, however, hug each other happily.

“Holy—” Jesse begins.

“—shit,” Wally finishes.

Barry closes the door, does a quick inventory of the layout, flashing around the suite in a whirlwind of yellow lightning, simultaneously stretching his legs, which have been cramped for far too long.

Barry hadn’t given Caitlin a limit on what she could spend on accommodations and excursions, knowing that she would be reasonable enough to spend good money on what mattered, and not spend it on things that would not contribute to their experience.

One thing she did spend money on is their room, or _rooms_ to be exact. The stateroom Caitlin picked out for Team Flash is the highest quality stateroom that’s offered on the ship for their number of passengers and it’s the _only_ suite that can sleep more than six people, but the rest of Team Flash doesn’t have to know that.

The suite she chose is located nearly at the middle of the ship, right next to the elevators on the thirteenth deck of the port side. The stateroom itself is large—for a cruise liner—impressively containing about 600 square feet of space inside, and around 200 square feet outside, because, of course, it has _a_ _freaking outdoor balcony._

When they walk in, immediately to their right is the second largest bedroom in the suite. It contains one large bed and a sofa that can be converted into a second full bed.

“I call this one!” Caitlin points immediately. “And I want to sleep on the side closest to the door.” No one dares to contest her, especially not after all the work she did planning the trip.

“I’ll take the other side,” Jesse pipes up, hoping that Caitlin doesn’t kick in her sleep, or snore, or talk, but also knowing that even if she does, the other options of sleeping partners aren’t ideal. Of course, Wally is the exception, but there is no way in hell her dad is going to let her get away with that. She still isn’t over the fact that he separated her and Wally on the ride over. And speaking of, she sees Wally open his mouth to speak, hoping that—

“And I’ll take the couch,” Harry adds quickly as he steps in front.

Jesse barely holds back from nuking him. Instead, she rolls her eyes when her dad isn’t looking, but Harry knows her well enough to guess that she’s doing it anyway.

Continuing down the hallway is the smallest of the rooms on the left. It has a single large bed and the flat-screen.

“Barry, since you’re paying for all of this—” Caitlin begins.

“— _S.T.A.R. Labs_ is paying for this—” Barry cuts in.

“—You _own_ S.T.A.R. Labs.”

Barry is quiet.

“You should get this room to yourself.” Caitlin lightly pushes him towards it.

A sigh escapes Barry’s lips, and he doesn’t debate further. He lets a smile creep over his face. “Thanks,” he tells her, and then looks at everyone else too.

“No problem,” Cisco says. “Now, about that big bed in the last room—”

He’s referring to what appears to be the master bedroom. Although it isn’t classified as such in Caitlin’s itinerary, it’s still the largest room, so it fits the bill for master bedroom status. It’s also on the left side, adjacent to Barry’s room.

“I call it!” Iris and Eddie both shout. They look at each other. “Jinx!” They say in unison again, and then give each other a high five over their heads. Barry laughs. _He_ had taught them how to do that.

Cisco merely glares and takes a possessive step towards the door, and Wally speaks up, “Cisco and I can take the couch,” he says.

Cisco opens his mouth to protest, but a knock at the door cuts him short. Caitlin moves to open it, and singlehandedly drags in the loaded carts one after the other. The group claims their individual belongings, and they all settle in their separate rooms to unpack.

“Dinner is at eight!” Caitlin declares loudly as she locks the main door to their stateroom. “That’s after the lifeboat drill,” she adds, disappearing shortly with Harry and Jesse into their room.

“Psst.” Cisco looks over at Barry in the hopes of grabbing his attention before the speedster vanishes into his own private room.

“Yeah?” Barry wanders as he turns around.

“Do you want to come look at the balcony with me?” Cisco inquires.

Barry sends him a sly smile before Cisco barely registers a flash of yellow lightning before he is scooped up. He feels his stomach drop for only a second, as if he is falling sideways _,_ and then there is a sensation of perfect balance before he is jerked forward again as Barry ceases running. Cisco feels a strong hand supporting the back of his neck as he comes to an abrupt stop, and Barry’s other arm is around his shoulders to catch him.

Cisco only feels a light hand on his bicep, and the remaining momentum left over from the run nearly topples him over the balcony. Of course, the speedster envelops him in a massive bear hug before that can happen, but Cisco is just shy of one hundred percent certain that Barry let him narrowly miss being thrown overboard just for kicks. Cisco suddenly wishes he had a cooler “power” than “seeing though the vibrations of the universe” if only for the thought of finally getting Barry back for all the times the speedster had pranked him.

“Dude, _no!”_ Cisco turns to him, exasperated. “Just, _no._ And not by water!”

“I wasn’t going to let you actually go overboard.” Barry retorts, plopping down in a plush lounge chair.

“Still not cool.” Cisco reclines as well, but he keeps one chair in between both of them, just in case, not that it would do much to stop the speedster. Cisco eyes the other warily in between glances out to the harbor.

“You know, this is going to be breathtaking once we are out on the open water.” Barry remarks. “I wish I could just run across it all, you know? But _someone told me I can’t use my flash suit until we get to the_ Isle of Fate. _”_

“Hey, enjoy the vacation experience for once,” Cisco barely chokes back a laugh, “or you could always run naked.”

Barry’s glare is deadly.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just stick a speed dampener on you so you could really be normal for this whole week,” Cisco suggests.

“I would get jittery, and then go insane from not running.” Barry predicts. “Also, you _wouldn’t._ It’s too dangerous. _”_

“Ah yes, the life of Barry Allen, ordinary forensic scientist, but still a world traveler, would surely be a boring one.” Cisco says with dramatic flair. “But no, I kinda like you with your speed. At this point I’m more used to your speedster antics than your normal ones.”

“And what are my normal ones?”

“Exactly.” He grins.

From there, the two of them watch for boats passing in the distance, casually remarking how the ship isn’t moving yet and _can they please hurry up_. Cisco almost orders margaritas for the two of them at one point, but Barry concludes that “nothing good happens with tequila” and reminds that he still can’t get drunk, which finally shuts Cisco up. Not to mention Cisco still hasn’t received his shitty enchiladas and shrimp cocktail.

From where they sit, they can see balconies exactly like their own below them, and smaller ones on either side. Each balcony is situated so that Barry and Cisco can still talk about whatever they please and not worry about anyone sitting on another balcony overhearing them. So sure, they can speak intimately about Flash stuff or Cisco’s latest invention to counteract metahuman threats. But instead they can lean back, relax, and Cisco could try to tan a little before Caitlin inevitably finds them and opines on the horrors of skin cancer.

They remain out on the balcony until the ship raises its anchor and then go off to join the rest of Team Flash to be a part of the mandatory lifeboat drill.

~

“Oh come _on,_ Lenny! We have to go see the top!” Lisa Snart grabs her brother’s hand as she tugs him towards the elevators that service the upper floors.

“Yeah, _Lenny,”_ Hartley teases, mimicking Lisa. “We have to go see the top!”

“The two of you need to shut up, and we need get to our rooms. Our _separate_ rooms.” Len shakes his hand free of the familiar grip, rolls his suitcases towards the _other_ set of elevators, the ones more towards the stern of the ship, that lead to their accommodations on the seventh deck.

“Snart, do you need a hand?” Mick says after Len storms off. Once Len stops and turns around, Mick holds out one of his hands to take a bag or two.

A cruise employee had come by earlier to try and take their bags, but Len refused. There was no way in hell Len would trust a stranger with the bag that not only contains his greatest treasures. After a moment, Len sighs and hands over one of the bags to Mick.

“I could just transport them up there, do a little pop, pop, _pop!_ and they would be there,” Shawna Baez suggests with flagrant arm gestures.

“You know the rules,” Len reminds her. “No powers. And that means _no teleporting,_ Baez. Besides, you don’t even know _where_ our rooms even are.”

“Where our _suite_ is,” Hartley smirks.

“I often wonder why I put up with you idiots.” Len queries himself.

“Because you _loooooovvvveeeee_ us,” Lisa answers with a skip in her step, pressing the elevator button with a perfectly manicured finger.

When the elevator door opens, the eight Rogues who had been allowed to take Leonard Snart up on his offer of a weeklong cruise step on the elevator. They ascend a few decks in eleven seconds. Len notes that it’s an efficient elevator.

Last week, Len had sent out an email on the Rogue’s master listserv, inviting all to join him on a teambuilding retreat, which would be held on the nicest cruise liner the high seas offered. All would be paid for, thanks to the ugly-as-shit-but-still-super-expensive Pollock painting he recently fenced, but there was a catch. They would only be allowed to go along with him as long as those who attended would swear off using their powers for the week.

Of course, there’s an ulterior motive. Since the _Fate of the Seas_ is the only ship that sails to the Isle of Fate, Len and the rest of the Rogues are stuck on the boat for a week before they can perform the heist that they have been planning for the last six months.

They plan to steal the Mask of Fate from right under the noses of the cruise ship employees, the authorities, and anyone else who stands in their way would be iced on the spot. Fencing it will net millions, and the Rogues won’t have to pull off another heist for at least a year.

Mark Mardon nearly refused because he couldn’t be surrounded by water and _not_ do something with it, but he ended up choosing to go. Sam Scudder turned it down after notifying Len that he was going to be in Europe at the time because he was trying to pull a job to ‘find himself’, which Len knew was a load of shit, and called him on it, ordering him to join him on the cruise. Sam agreed almost immediately. Roy Bivolo finally had enough control to—in theory—hold back from making everyone on the whole ship angry at the drop of a hat, _just_ because he could, so Len was excited—in the best way that Leonard Snart can be excited—to have him come aboard.

So that left Lisa—as if Len would go anywhere without her—Hartley, Mick, and Shawna. Len knew he could trust the seven of them not do something stupid, even if he is slightly concerned that Mick may try to burn down the whole ship by the end of the week.

The elevator doors slide open on the seventh deck and Len hauls his bags to their room. He already has extensive blueprints of the entire ship—most of them were on the website, but he still supplemented them with other plans—so he knows exactly where their accommodations are: right next to the elevator, close to the middle of the ship, more towards the stern than the bow, and the room faces port. Len had splurged on the suite, getting the nicest stateroom that the _Fate of the Seas_ could offer for his group, but unknowingly booking the exact model of suite as a certain stateroom on the thirteenth deck.

Lisa and Shawna claim the bed in the first room to the right, and Hartley chooses the couch. Len gets the room with the flat-screen all to himself because he _is_ the boss after all, and no one argues with him on the matter.

Roy and Mick take the last available bed in the master bedroom, and Mark and Sam end up with the last couch that is also in the same room.

_It’s going to be a long week,_ Len thinks, and unpacks his bags after ordering his crew to be at the lifeboat drill on time _or else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Fate of the Seas_ is loosely based off of Royal Caribbean's _Anthem of the Seas_. The suites that the Rogues and Team Flash sleep in are technically called the "Family Connected Junior Suite with Balcony". I also made diagrams outlining their sleeping arrangements, if anyone wants visualization. 
> 
> [Team Flash](https://imgur.com/gallery/qw6Fi)
> 
> [The Rogues](https://imgur.com/gallery/mR5Ch)
> 
> Finally, the Pollock painting Len fenced was something akin to [_Autumn Rhythm (Number 30) ___](http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/images/hb/hb_57.92.jpg).


	3. Bon Voyage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Fate of the Seas_ has set sail! *dramatic music plays* 
> 
> Cisco's playlist for this chapter includes the very rockin' [Crave]() by Parachute.

“This shrimp cocktail is so much better than I expected.” Cisco dips yet another cold shrimp into the small dollop of cocktail sauce on his plate. He pulls away the meat with his teeth and leaving the tail behind and then adds it to the growing pile on the other side of his plate. Time for thirds.

After Team Flash attended the lifeboat drill, they all went back to their stateroom and changed into formal clothes for dinner. The formal dinner proceeds smoothly, albeit uneventful, and all are much more excited about attending the Bon Voyage Party on the third deck than they ever were about the five-course dinner. The Hall of Music and the Casino are both blocked off for the party, since there are still 3800 passengers—aka _all_ of them—left to accept the gratuitous invitation. Events take place on other decks—a continuation of the party on the decks below—but the crew assume that most of the attendees will be on the third deck, and theoretically, there _should_ be enough space.

In the days before the ship set sail, Cisco had tirelessly constructed matching attire for the group of them, insisting that it will be so much better for pictures if they’re all wearing the same black.

Now, Harry argues that black is black, and Cisco immediately points out that half the time his blacks don’t match anyways, which earns Cisco a good dose of Harry’s best squinty eyes.

Regardless, all the men presently wait for the elevator dressed in sharply cut suits. Harry had refused to wear any kind of tie, opting to instead leave the top few buttons of his white shirt undone to further his ‘look’. Although Harry’s suit is more reminiscent of Eobard Thawne’s formal attire than anything—to the point that once or twice Cisco and Barry both are forced to take a step back out of sheer instinct. It still suits him nicely, and Cisco realizes just how much better that suit looks on _his_ Harry than it ever did on Eobard Thawne.

On the other hand, Barry happily accepts the simple black bow tie Cisco created for him, and he strikes a pose once he successfully ties it. Cisco immediately takes a picture to capture the moment. Barry realized very quickly when he first tried on the outfit that Cisco had modeled his ensemble after Earth-2 Barry Allen, complete with the bow tie. To top it off, Barry even wears the same model of glasses that Earth-2 Barry Allen had worn when they last visited.

Meanwhile, Eddie, Cisco, and Wally sport normal ties, along with fairly normal suits, and overall the men of Team Flash form a _very_ attractive group.

The ladies wear dresses with matching fabrics, but the necklines and lengths are decidedly different. Cisco had pulled Caitlin aside during early construction of her formal outfit, asking her if it would have been acceptable if he wished to model it after Killer Frost’s costume—which Cisco _still_ had in his cosplay closet. Of course, Caitlin is the only other person that knows about that closet, but the two of them assume through mutual agreement that Eobard had known as well.

Regardless, instead of being met with rejection, Cisco was filled with delight upon seeing her immediate excitement. When he had finished sewing it together, the two of them had danced, just to celebrate not only the finishing of the outfit but also their latest addition to the cosplay closet.

~

_“Cisco, they can’t know it’s a costume,” Caitlin had said after giving Cisco’s latest masterpiece another twirl._

_“Yes, yes, I know, but as long as_ you _know that it actually is, I can live with it” Cisco had lunged towards her as a joke, serving as a silent invitation for her to present to him her best Killer Frost imitation—they had been practicing more lately—but the performance she subsequently gave was hardly “killer” since Caitlin had been far too happy to be as menacing and deadly as what would have been required of the character that is Killer Frost._

_“Despite_ that _performance, you have gotten better.” Cisco had said._

_“Thanks.” She had blushed a little at the praise._

_“Same to you.” Cisco had smiled._

~

Caitlin’s dress is the longest, and also the one that bears Cisco’s pride.

The lower portion of her dress is constructed of panels made of the black fabric that matches everyone else’s outfits. It reaches to her calves and has several artful slits cut into the panels themselves, all of which begin at her hips. There are three slits in the front and back along with one on each side totaling eight in all.

Within the space that is created by the removal of fabric to make the slits is a black snakeskin pattern that one could only notice if they are looking very, _very,_ closely. The snakeskin portion stops just three inches shy of the hem at the bottom of the dress. To top it off, this portion of the dress billows around her legs as she walks and goes perfectly with the chunky black heels she picked out for the occasion.

The top of the dress is an entirely different story.

Cisco constructed a corset exactly as that of her Earth-2 doppelganger, but removed the belt and still made the body of the corset with the same fabric used in the slits: the black snakeskin pattern. Underneath the corset, the dress continues, made of the same fabric as the lower half. It has sleeves that extend all the way to her wrists, and a neckline isn’t made by the dress, but by the corset. On the underside of a slight collar there is more black snakeskin fabric, meant to serve as an accent.

Finally, in the back of the dress itself, a single diamond is cut between her shoulder blades that’s around four inches on each side. The diamond exposes part of her back, and she’s _spectacular_.

Standing next to Caitlin is another stunning outfit courtesy of Cisco Ramon. Iris has a well-cut dress that stops halfway down her thighs with a skirt that billows out slightly. Cisco wanted to accentuate her normal style that she wears to work and around Central City so he gave her dress a high neckline without sleeves, and made the hemline of the bottom of the dress come up high enough that she could wear a classy pair of over-the-knee matte leather boots. They have no heel, which Iris had been very happy about when Cisco had presented them to her at her final fitting.

Jesse’s dress is reminiscent of the one she had worn the day her dad had announced his new line of metahuman detection apps on his Earth. It’s a cut that is form fitting down to her knees, made of the same fabric that matches everyone else’s attire. Her dress has sleeves, but they’re short, and they are part of the same fabric that forms the neckline. The neckline itself is high, but not nearly as high as Iris’s, and it forms a wide “V” to create a more classy and formal look. Collectively, the ladies match the men in their looks, and this Team Flash might be the most attractive Team Flash in the entire multiverse, if just for this moment.

The collective steps off the elevator onto the third deck, strolls through the casino, and arrives in the music hall. A professional photographer takes their picture then permits them to continue.

The great thing about Bon Voyage parties is that they present the first opportunity for fancy dress. It’s a high-class event, which sets a good foundation for the rest of the week. Live music floats through the air as the group finds a table. Iris and Eddie promptly take to the dance floor, abandoning the rest of the team. Before Harry can object, Jesse grabs Wally’s hand and they run away to the dance floor as well. Both of them are quick on their feet, and before long, the couple is dancing the tango with a level of skill that the rest of Team Flash—save for Harry—is unaware existed.

Harry, Cisco, Caitlin, and Barry make a beeline for the bar after they set their personal items on a circular table that can seat all eight of them. They climb the eight steps that it takes to get to the bar itself, and sit on stools. The bar on the opposite end of the ship has a similar setup, seemingly identical to the bar they are presently seated at, even elevated in a similar fashion, and the four of them mutually agree to check the other bar out later to test if it truly is identical.

For science, of course.

“Order what you like,” Barry says, and flashes the S.T.A.R. Labs platinum card for a brief second, making sure the three see it before they can order anything.

Harry orders whiskey—because some things are constant between universes—and Caitlin treats herself to a fine Pinot Noir from France that Barry recommends to her. Cisco orders the same, insisting that he prefers wine sometimes. His eyes dare any of the others to challenge him.

“I’ll just have a rum and coke please,” Barry says when he finally gets his turn. He soon thinks better of it. “Just without the rum.” The bartender curiously eyes him. “Like just the coke, and can you add grenadine to it? And a lemon and a lime?”

“Whatever you want,” The bartender grouses, and Barry senses the bartender is _disappointed_ in him. “I’ll have that right out for you shortly. And I will need to see all of your IDs please.”

The four of them remove their IDs from their wallets, and the bartender eyes them curiously, but approves them all the same, even if Harry’s is a fake that says his name isn’t Harrison Wells but is in fact Hayden Ward. The ID itself had been manufactured by Cisco with a little help from Felicity Smoak.

Before long, Barry is left alone sitting at the bar, watching Harry, Cisco and Caitlin walk around talking about nonsensical things, maybe science, maybe movies Harry hasn’t seen yet, or maybe the artifact itself and their pending heist, if they could even call it such a thing.

All the while, Barry notices that Harry keeps a close eye on Cisco, and for a split second, Barry is confused as to _why._ He finally recognizes that the older man displays a certain level of protectiveness over the younger man. If it means Cisco is safe, then Barry won’t have to worry about him as much when the vibe returns. Cisco hasn’t vibed since they boarded the ship, but all of Team Flash is prepared for it when it eventually does make its inevitable return.

He watches as the two scientists amble towards the Casino, and Caitlin trails closely behind them. Without a doubt, Barry is sure the three of them are headed to the games to try their luck, with an ulterior motive to show Harry how gambling on Earth-1 works. They may even grab another drink at the bar on the stern end of the ship. Barry settles back on his barstool and carefully sips his soda after squeezing the lemon and lime to his heart’s content, soon enjoying the cherry flavors melding with the harsh citrus as he does his best not to speed drink the entire thing. He hasn’t consumed any liquids since boarding the ship, which probably hasn’t been the best idea, especially for someone like him.

He soon finishes off the drink—and is glad he has done so—because when he lowers the glass from his lips and moves to set it down, his eyes lock with none other than Leonard Snart sitting at the bar on the opposite end of the ship.

If Barry had anything left to drink in his glass, he would have spat it out.

If Barry didn’t have such self-control over his anger and his powers by this point, the glass would have been shattered to pieces by supersped vibrations, and he wouldn’t have cared who saw.

And then, if there was no one else was present, he would have sped over, slammed Snart into the nearest hard surface and demanded to know why _he_ of all people was on _this_ cruise ship here and _now_.

Of course, the speedster does absolutely nothing as he watches the smuggest smirk in the entire multiverse spread across Snart’s face as he acknowledges Barry’s existence on the ship.

Now Barry just wants to punch the smirk right off his face. Supersonically.

However, he gets no opportunity to even indulge in that fantasy. Before he can even start to walk to then other end of the ship, Snart gets up from the bar, finishes his drink in one long gulp—which has Barry going _damn_ because that was impressive _—_ and walks away _,_ leaving Barry uncomfortably still and speechless for more than one reason, and he did _not_ need to think about those reasons right now.

Barry had needed this trip to be peaceful and relaxing. He briefly considers ordering the strongest alcoholic beverage on the menu, just out of principle, but decides against it.

It takes two long, eternity-filled and time-dilated, speedster seconds before he runs at a painfully slow human speed through the music hall searching for _anyone_ on Team Flash, because this, yes _this,_ is a problem.

~

To say Len is surprised to see Barry Allen across the ship would be incorrect.

To say Len is _pleasantly_ surprised to see Barry Allen across the ship would be very, _very_ correct.

As such, he lets the biggest smirk he can manage cross his face, and watches as Barry turns quite red.

After downing the drink, and taking in Barry’s irate and frustrated countenance, Len walks away from the bar, as slow as he can manage, and once he is down at the bottom of the steps of the bar, he makes a beeline for Mick and Lisa. He nearly runs once he spots them on the dance floor as they are engaged in some ridiculous dance that they are both too drunk to really do well.

Then again, once he reaches them, he doesn’t _know_ what he’s going to say to them. The other Rogues don’t know Barry is the Flash, and he isn’t going to _tell_ them, because as much as he breaks the law, he doesn’t stoop _that_ low. That’s just basic honor. In addition, Len doesn’t have enough intelligence on Barry. For what purpose is the speedster here? Is he alone? If yes, why? If not, who is with him? All these questions and then many more go through his mind at a speed that Len wish would _just slow down._

He returns to the bar, leaving Lisa and Mick to their drunken antics, and orders another bourbon. He can deal with Barry later. It isn’t like the kid is going anywhere. After all, both of them are stuck out in the middle of the ocean for the next seven days. Then again, maybe Barry would run away if he made him, threatened him with the cold gun, and Barry _can_ run on water, right? He had heard about the incident with the woman who could turn anything into a bomb with one touch. _She_ would have made an excellent addition to his family of Rogues, that’s for sure.

But Len had heard about how Barry had literally run on water to stop her from flattening Central City with an explosion that would have caused a _lot_ of causalities. Sure the media had kept news of her existence quiet, but Len had his sources. He _always_ had his sources.

So Len hangs onto the thought that maybe Barry will run away. That thought is easier to comprehend than the alternative, and right now it’s more important that Len’s mind _slows the fuck down_ so he can concentrate properly.

He starts counting in his head, and hits 1578 before the bourbon starts to do its worst, and with a relieved smile, the criminal settles into a comfy armchair close to the bar, and just lets himself relax before he lets all hell break loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time! These guys have been dancing around each other long enough. Time to get the ball rolling up in here!!!! 
> 
> But onto more important things, thanks for reading! I wish I had drawings of all of their outfits to show you guys, but for now descriptions will have to do until Wynter gets her shit together and actually learns how to draw people instead of bees and the occasional shitty person.
> 
> And speaking of Team Flash's outfits, I absolutely headcanon that Cisco has a cosplay closet where he keeps all of the costumes, both the ones he's made and the ones we... haven't seen yet. As I mentioned in the chapter, Caitlin is absolutely in cahoots with him about it, and Eobard _knew_. But of course the main reason is because Cisco really whipped out those Killer Frost and Reverb costumes pretty damn quick. We know he didn't just raid the bodies because those costumes would all have holes in them from Zoom and... Zoom. So solution? Cisco's Cosplay Closet™. 
> 
> Since this fic takes place shortly after the Earth-2 episodes, Cisco and Caitlin are totally practicing their dopplaganger impressions on the regular. #it's not role play it's a coping mechanism #laughs
> 
> In addition, I tried to show Cisco's decisions in designing their costumes were based around specific ideas in mind, and how thoughtful he's been so far in his making of them. I mean, have you seen the flash suit?! It's not just a meshy red at the parts that aren't tripolymer, it's literally _tiny, printed lightning bolts_. That's fucking cool! Source: [This "Behind the Seams" Video]().
> 
> Cisco designed Barry's suit it to remind himself and Barry of their goofiness on Earth-2--the let's-take-a-selfie-kind. Clearly, those early moments on Earth-2 were the fun part of that trip... 
> 
> For Harry's suit, it was about Cisco still working through the hurt he experienced from Eobard's betrayal. Eobard in a suit? Fuck that. Harry in a suit? Maybe that face isn't so bad after all. 
> 
> For Caitlin, Cisco wanted to take the horrible image that Caitlin had of her being Killer Frost, and turn it into something beautiful. This takes place before season 2 even ended, so technically she had no worry, but dopplegangers be freaky, yo. His design of her dress was absolutely a redesigned version of her doppleganger's suit--if it could be called that. 
> 
> Those are the big ones. The others are a little more self-explanatory, but you get the idea;) Anyways, I've rambled enough. Thanks to you all for your continuing support of this fic, and I hope the weekend finds you well :)
> 
> This chapter (and the first three up to this point) were beta-ed by the lovely [guardianlioness]().


	4. Confrontation on the High Seas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Len and Barry finally--you guessed it--confront each other on the high seas. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist for this chapter includes [Why'd You Bring a Shotgun to the Party ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAqG8eqFoLA) by The Pretty Reckless.

Barry finally catches up to Cisco and immediately breaks into the other man’s conversation with Harry and Caitlin.

“Cisco!” The speedster ignores Harry’s obvious disapproval of his actions, but nevertheless Barry tries to keep his voice down.

“Yeah?” Cisco says. “What is it?”

Barry opens his mouth to talk, but what is he going to say? Caitlin, who has just finished her glass of wine, cues him to speak with a _look._

_Leonard Snart_ is on the ship.

How is he supposed to tell them he saw _Leonard goddamn Snart_ on this cruise ship?

“We’re waiting, Allen.” Harry crosses his arms.

“I—” A server walks by them in that moment, and Barry—just out of _instinct—_ grabs a glass of champagne. Cisco and Harry just stare as he downs the entire glass in two gulps, setting it down on a nearby table quick. “—just saw Captain Cold.”

“You saw _who?”_ Cisco exclaims.

“Leonard Snart. Captain Cold. Leader of the Rogues.” Barry says. “I saw him at the bar on the stern end of the ship, just _sitting_ there.”

Cisco is considering dabbling in hard liquor.

“This isn’t happening.” Cisco says.

Barry fights to keep his voice down. “Why didn’t you run a check on the passenger list?”

“Barry there are almost _four thousand_ people on this ship! Not to mention we have a shit ton of enemies at this point! It’s not like I have a casual list of everyone who hates you,” Cisco says through gritted teeth, “though I should make one,” he adds, reconsidering.

“Running checks for all passengers would have taken _hours_ and we only decided to go here three days ago.” Caitlin adds. “Cisco couldn’t have done that in the time frame.”

“You have algorithms!” Barry’s arms fly out to either side of himself, gesturing wildly at Cisco, and he sees Harry inhale sharply in disapproval of his outrage.

“Barry, let’s be serious here, if Snart and the Rogues are on this ship, even if we _did_ run a check on the passenger list, they’re probably under aliases anyways.” Caitlin reasons. “If known criminals wanted to board a ship they would _have_ to get on by means of their aliases.”

“I can run a check to flag for suspicious aliases, but no promises Barry. Cold tends to be… good with the whole breaking-the-law thing.” Cisco side-eyes the other man.

“I’m just not happy that Leonard _goddamn_ Snart is on this ship.” Barry starts, getting on the defensive. Harry notices.

“Calm down.” Harry orders, stepping between them. Barry hadn’t realized that he moved closer to Cisco neither had he noticed that Cisco had moved closer to him. “Before you two start bickering again, we have to tell the others.”

“Well, it isn’t like you went after him.” Cisco adds.

“Shut _up,_ you two.” Harry tells them both sternly. He pulls out his Earth-1 phone, and shoots out a group text in the ‘Team Flash Vacation’ chat.

Harry: _Reconvene at our table._

Harry: _Immediately._

Iris: _Eddie and I are on our way_

Jesse: _Wally and I are headed there now_

Harry breathes a sigh of relief that’s only noticeable to Barry due to it being so quick, and all that’s left to do now is wait.

~

“Snart is here? Are you kidding me?” Eddie interrupts, tugging Iris closer to him instinctively. The members of Team Flash have gathered at the table they reserved earlier, though none of them are choosing to sit.

Jesse and Wally stand close enough to touch shoulders, but don’t dare hold hands. Their fingers twitch in the other’s direction involuntarily every few seconds.

Harry wishes he had his pulse rifle.

Barry wishes he had a punching bag in front of him. In the shape of Snart’s face.

“Yeah, he’s here.” Barry confirms.

“Well did you go after him?” Eddie asks.

Sighing, Barry paces for a few seconds. “I lost sight of him before I could do anything. It wasn’t like I could just run across the ship. He was at _the other end._ ”

“Has he left the party?” Iris says from her place next to Eddie, her hand tightening where it sits in his. “Like is he still here?”

“I—I don’t know.” Barry runs a hand through his hair, messing up any work he did earlier to make it look formally appropriate.

“Did he have his gun?” Eddie adds.

Barry sighs again, everyone was asking too many questions that he _didn’t know the answers to_. “I just saw his dumb face,” –and his drinking skills _—_ “that’s all. If he had it, he hid it well.”

Eddie thankfully asks no more questions about Snart, choosing instead to take off after telling Barry he will be back in ten minutes. Iris walks after him. At this point, Barry is too exhausted to argue with him, and Eddie _is_ a cop after all. He could handle himself. Probably.

“Okay, we need to figure out what to do when those two come back.” Barry says once he can’t follow Eddie’s head in the crowd anymore.

Cisco speaks up immediately. “Well, I vote we get back to the _Cortex of the Seas_ as soon as physically possible.”

Harry—of course—interjects. “That is _not_ what we are calling our stateroom—”

“No one asked for your opinion, _Harry._ ” Cisco says pointedly. “I’m in charge of nicknames, if you recall.”

“Oh I recall, _Nabisco.”_ Harry smirks, and a second later he swears that smoke is coming out of Cisco’s ears. Crisco had been bad enough, but Nabisco? Taking this nicknaming game to snack cookies—especially crappy snack cookies in Cisco’s opinion—is a step too far.

Cisco takes one step towards Harry and opens his mouth to speak before Barry pipes up again.

“Guys, Cisco’s right, we should head back to our rooms—”

“The Cortex of the Seas.” Cisco corrects, sufficiently distracted from following through with his death sentence he placed on the head of Harrison Wells.

“Whatever you want to call it, we need to head to a space where we can literally lock the door and hide ourselves while we come up with a plan.” Barry finishes.

Eddie chooses that moment to return with Iris in tow.

“Snart’s gone.” Eddie confirms.

_Duh,_ Barry thinks.

“And Barry?”

Barry turns. “Yes?”

“I think I found something you might be interested in.” After Eddie is done speaking, Barry—along with the others—notice that on top of Eddie’s palm is a note written on a napkin, scrawled in a loopy font. Barry takes it when Cisco refuses—he doesn’t need to vibe anything else on top of what he’s already vibing—and reads it out loud.

_Meet me on the top deck at midnight, Scarlet._

_Come alone._

_-CC_

“Oh great, now he wants us to meet up with him.” Cisco says, running his fingers through his own hair in frustration.

“No, he wants to meet up with _me._ ” Barry corrects. “ _I’m_ Scarlet, not you.”

“I still can’t believe he calls you that.” Cisco says.

“Regardless, if he was here to hurt us, we would already be hurt, okay?” Barry says. “I can do this, and bring back info, and answers. See what he wants.”

“Are you sure about this, Barry?” Caitlin says, stepping towards him.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Barry crumples the note in his hands and then places it in his suit pocket for examination later. “Until then we have a few hours to plan for what the _fuck_ is happening.”

“Yeah, because we need to do that.” Cisco says.

There are mmhmm noises from the rest of Team Flash.

“Well, now that everyone is in agreement, I’ll lead the way.” Barry says, and heads for the elevators on the other side of the casino. “And Cisco, before you say _anything_ else, I’m _not_ calling our rooms that.”

“I have a week. You’ll give in eventually.” Cisco promises, and walks after him, the others following close behind.

~

Hartley was enjoying the live music at the Bon Voyage party, a cocktail in his hand, when Cisco had crossed his field of vision. Hartley got away before Cisco had seen him—he hoped—and now he was furious with Len for not saying anything. If he _knew_ that his old rival would be here, he would have fought harder to stay off the ship. That of course meant directly opposing Len, but Len would have had to get over it.

“Snart, do you want to tell me why Cisco Ramon is on this cruise liner?” Hartley Rathaway now stands in front of Len, whose head is hurting—not from alcohol, but from sheer _annoyance—_ in the studio room of their suite. The other Rogues are doing god-knows-what out on the balcony, so Hartley has his privacy. The only other person present is Mick, who would have heard about all this anyways. Snart held little back from the bigger man if Hartley’s assumptions about the two of them were correct.

Len is hunched over his computer, working on contingencies that he _really_ wishes he didn’t have to make.

“I don’t _know_ , Piper. I’ve got it under control,” Len tells Hartley, cursing himself for not seeing _that_ one coming. As if Barry would go anywhere alone. Of course he would have brought the person who takes care of his suit _and everything else_ with him. Unfortunately, if Cisco is here that could mean—

Angrily, he ignores Hartley’s continued questions and pulls up the passenger manifest. Len starts typing in names. It takes him a minute, and a little bit of thought on remembering what some of Team Flash’s _real_ names are, before he finds what he is looking for.

_Cisco Ramon: Not Found_

_Francisco Ramon: Found_

_Iris West: Found_

_Joe West: Not Found_

_Eddie Thawne: Not Found_

_Edward Thawne: Found_

_Barry Allen: Not Found_

_Bartholomew Allen: Found_

_Wally West: Found_

_Harrison Wells: Not Found_

_Caitlin Snow: Found_

Okay, so it isn’t _all_ of Team Flash here, just five of them: Barry, Cisco, Caitlin, Iris, and her badge of a boyfriend.

Totally manageable.

Now all Len could hope for is that Barry will be smart enough to actually come alone to their meeting tonight. He knows Barry isn’t _stupid,_ but Len can’t say the same for his friends. He hates the idea of _trusting_ Barry per se, but if Len wants that mask—and he does, more than anything right now—he will have to, at least for now. If only to blackmail the younger man in the process.

“—are you even listening to me?” Piper is _still_ talking to him.

Len abruptly scoots his chair back, and it emits a _loud_ squeaking noise that makes Hartley _cringe._ It’s very much done on purpose, and the Piper seethes at the realization _._

“Rathaway, if you don’t pipe down, I will have no problem asking Mick to throw you overboard.” He gestures in the direction where Mick sits in a chair that is way too small for him. Mick looks at Snart, and after moving his gaze to the smaller man, nods once.

Hartley swallows.

“Like I said, I’ve got it under control.” Len repeats, his point made. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Hartley says, his voice hardly audible. He can’t get out of the studio room fast enough. He nearly trips on the threshold, and Mick chuckles. The kid is far too easily intimidated, but that’s good for Len.

“Hey Boss,” Mick says once Hartley has left the vicinity. “What _are_ we going to do about Cisco and his… friends?”

Len glances once in his direction. Mick isn’t stupid either, he’s come to the same conclusion Len had. He just didn’t have the knowledge to confirm his hunch.

“I’m taking care of it.” Len states. “I’ll explain later, _if_ it’s convenient. Trust me.”

“I won’t hesitate to go snooping if I think it’s necessary.” Mick threatens. Mick knows his place, but he also knows that Len is his _partner_ not his _superior._ Len just happens to have the better ideas between the both of them 95-plus percent of the time.

Len nods, and when he sees that Mick goes back to messing with fire again, he gets back to work on his computer.

He has planning to do.

~

Barry chooses to climb the steps to his meeting with Snart. The top deck of the ship is only three decks above Team Flash’s stateroom—and Barry _is_ beginning to think of it as the _Cortex of the Seas_ thanks to Cisco’s relentless insistence on the matter—and Barry _can_ use the exercise. After all, he hasn’t used his powers since their arrival, and even then, he hasn’t moved around nearly as much as he usually does.

Climbing the steps is easy and calming. He’s alone, just like Snart asked, and he wears jeans and a t-shirt with the _Fate of the Seas_ logo on it. It’s nondescript, and he figures if anyone _does_ see him walk up to the top deck—even if it’s open to all passengers this time of night—they wouldn’t ask questions, because Barry does _not_ want to deal with any more of those right now.

When he does open the door that leads to the deck of the ship, it closes behind him quietly, the hydraulic mechanism of the hinge making the action almost soundless. Barry’s steps are equally quiet, and the area—even though a few overhead lights brighten it—is still remarkably dim. With a sigh, he sees why Snart chose this place to meet.

He wanders around, checking the note in his hand again to see if there are any other clues as to where Snart might be hiding. As predicted, he comes up with nothing, and checks his watch. It _is_ midnight—Barry had made it a point to be punctual—so where is _he?_

Barry moves around a little more, walking over to the balcony that overlooks the expanse of sea the ship is currently traversing, and then, once his eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, he sees Snart standing by the balcony that overlooks the lower decks of the ship.

Of _course_ Barry couldn’t see him before now, the man is cleverly hiding in the shadows where the lights don’t reach.

“Snart?” Barry whispers, still unsure.

“Barry?” The figure turns slightly, and Barry takes it as a cue to walk over to where the other man stands. Barry keeps his distance, but even from approximately five feet away, he can see that Snart is holding himself up by the railing, his parka-clad self looking ostentatious as ever.

“Are you okay?” Barry asks.

“Peachy,” Snart replies, “We have to talk.”

“You’re telling me.” Barry moves closer.

There’s a breeze drifting off the sea that blows around the two of them, and for a brief moment, Barry gets a hint of alcohol rolling off of Snart’s body—which makes sense, Barry _had_ seen him drink earlier—but also something… else.

Something _nice._

With a start, Barry realizes that the other man _smells_ good—alcohol aside—and Barry takes a step back in response. His eyes blink rapidly for a few seconds before he realizes what’s happening.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Barry asks, channeling his sudden surprise into a tone that’s almost a hiss.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Snart’s drawl is still as annoying as Barry remembers.

“Answer mine first.” Barry insists.

“I’m here on vacation.” He answers easily, meeting Barry’s gaze. Another breeze blows by and Barry does his best to keep his cool, hoping the other man is too…drunk? Hungover? Out of it?... to notice. “Your move, Scarlet.”

“Also vacation, like yourself.”

“I don’t believe you.” Snart shifts, pushing off of the balcony to give up its support and using the momentum to take a step closer to Barry.

“Well you have to.” Barry moves forward this time.

“Not exactly.” Neither of them is backing down. “You can’t make me do anything.”

“I could run you back to Central City.” Barry says. “Right back into Iron Heights.”

“And I could reveal your identity.”

“You wouldn’t.” Barry holds his ground, and Snart pauses, actually takes a step back, and Barry actually thinks he’s won before—

“Bar—” Snart begins, but Barry rushes forward and covers the other man’s mouth with his hand to keep him from shouting anything else that would give away their position. Barry’s muffles his yells, but it isn’t as if Snart is really fighting him.

“Would you shut up?” Barry half-screams half whispers into Snart’s face.

Snart nods, his eyes smirking, and Barry lets him go. He shoves the marshmallow that is Leonard Snart away like a disease, the plague Barry would never wish on himself.

Barry decides in that moment that Captain Cold is drunk off his ass.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Barry asks again.

“Why do you care?”

“Would you stop answering questions with questions?” Barry counters. His nerves are fraying and his patience is growing thin.

“I function fine.”

“Yeah, sure you—”

“Captain Cold, put your hands in the air!” Says Eddie motherfucking Thawne of all people.

“Oh no.” Barry says under his breath.

Snart rolls his eyes.

“Not so fast, pretty boy.” Lisa Snart says, moving from other shadows, her gold gun pointed at Eddie. Eddie himself doesn’t know where to point his own weapon, but doesn’t have to think long before Harrison Wells moves from behind him, leveling his pulse rifle—and Len wonders how the fuck did he get _that_ on board—at Lisa’s head.

Of course, Len’s pissed.

Upon seeing Lisa, Snart shoves Barry behind him, thankful that he decided to wear his parka to this encounter, because it hides the speedster well enough that the two of them can move away from the scene. Barry is smart enough to put his head down and away from Lisa’s direction and just let Len lead the way.

While Lisa bickers with Eddie—and is that Mick?—Len half shoves and half drags Barry behind a stack of stylish crates that are clearly meant to serve as decoration and not as cover from a sudden confrontation on the high seas.

Unceremoniously, Len crowds Barry back against the decorative boxes, and Barry lets him because he doesn’t know what else to do. Barry is cringing, his body nestled behind Len, and contemplating running on the spot, but Len makes that notion...difficult.

“Cisco, what the hell, man!” Wally shouts.

“Hey, I didn’t know there would be more of them!” The scientist replies.

“Oh hello there, Cisco, nice to see you again.” Lisa’s voice coos. There’s a slap and a clang, and then Cisco’s yelp is sounding across the deck.

“Hey let me go!” Cisco shouts.

“Aww shit,” Iris says.

“Fuck me” Caitlin agrees.

“With a spoon twice daily.” Harry adds.

“So if you’re here,” Hartley says to Cisco, his voice calm and controlled, and Cisco hates it. “Where’s the Flash?”

Goddamnit, who _isn’t_ here? Len thinks, glancing over at Barry. “You were supposed to come alone, Scarlet.” Len whispers. “I thought we had a deal.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Cold.” Barry snaps back.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” Len told him, pressing Barry further back into the crates. Hazel eyes—at least in _this_ light—glare back up at him, but don’t betray any further defiance. Len takes that for the opportunity it is and speaks again. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to let me distract my people, and then you’re going to make a run for it.”

“They’ll see the lightning! My powers don’t make me invisible.” Barry hisses.

Len groans. “Then _run slower_.” Snart says back, daring Barry to challenge him.

Fortunate for Barry, he doesn’t, and the anger dies from his eyes a little.

“Why are you protecting me?” Barry says quietly.

“Because I made a promise, you insolent _moron_.” Len answers immediately.

Barry seems shocked at that. Len moves off of him, letting Barry sit up a little more, though the younger man still stays close—and isn’t that ironic, that Barry is needing Len’s protection of all people—and cautiously peeks around the outside of one of the crates.

What Len sees is his Rogues and the rest of Team Flash in a goddamned standoff.

Lisa is holding Cisco hostage, one arm around his throat and the other holding the gold gun to his head. Len laughs inwardly at that. His sister couldn’t shoot him if she tried, and he notices a second later that while her finger may be held taut on the trigger, the safety is on.

Then he sees Harrison Wells and his goddamned pulse rifle positioned close to Piper and pointing it at his chest. Piper who has his hands out, gloves on, is primed for a fight.

Wally West and what looks to be Wells’ daughter stand side by side, blocking Sam and Roy from coming closer to Eddie Thawne and Iris West, who stand directly behind Wally and the other girl. Eddie still has his gun pointed at Len’s crew and Iris stands defiantly next to him, wishing she had a gun herself.

Caitlin Snow is left being circled by Shawna and Mark, and she looks absolutely terrified.

The only person that Len doesn’t see is Mick, and Len is sure he had heard his partner speak earlier, so where—

The warm body that is cuddled into the back of Snart’s parka is suddenly lifted, and Barry shrieks as Mick yanks him upwards and back by his hair.

Barry, being the reckless speedster he is, reacts by calling on the Speedforce, and attempting to flash away to safety.

Mick catches him before he can do that however, holding the speedster still in a definitely-and-most-certainly-unwanted bear hug, but that doesn’t stop the younger man from letting out a flurry of yellow lightning bolts around himself as he tries to escape, his hands and arms vibrating furiously but also incredibly sporadically. Len realizes it’s because the kid is mortally terrified. Mick chuckles once he realizes who Barry is, and Len’s stomach drops to his boots. To make matters worse, Barry’s eyes lock with Len’s, wide with fear, begging Len to help him.

And since when does Len even _care?_ Regardless, he still moves forward to try and pull Mick down behind the crates as a last-ditch effort to help the speedster, along with keeping his word. He may be a criminal, but he still has a basic sense of honor.

“Don’t even think about it, Snart.” Mick pins Len with a piercing look that’s laced with betrayal, and shoves Len back with a foot to his abdomen. Len stumbles easily, wishing he hadn’t drank so much earlier, because he _just can’t think clearly right now._

As a result of his bad choices, Len can do nothing to stop Mick from dragging Barry, kicking and fighting, out to show the rest of the Rogues just _who_ the Flash really is.

Len didn’t mean for it all to go to shit. He didn’t mean for Barry’s cover to get blown, and he certainly didn’t mean for their meeting to be anything more than a fragile truce between them, another agreement, another _deal_.

_Fuck_ , Len thinks, braces himself, and walks out to face the music.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the person I gave this to looked this chapter over in more detail this time around, so thanks, Star. 
> 
> In other news, I wish I didn't have to cut this chapter off here, but if I kept going it would have consisted of a disproportionate amount of words to what is typical of chapters in this fic so far. So hang in there. 
> 
> In the mean time, shit's going down, so hang onto your lifejackets!
> 
> *cackles from behind computer* 
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoyed it! And I hope you had a happy thanksgiving, if you celebrate that ;)


	5. And I Swear that I Don't Have a Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [In the Air Tonight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTii7i-195E) by Phil Collins (but covered rather fantastically by Kelly Sweet), [Come as You Are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRCyJJkB6aE) by Nirvana (but covered again, rather fantastically, by Aerial), and [Kill Everyone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RybPdm1Hqk) by Hollywood Undead.

Honestly, it’s a surprise to _everyone_ that none of the other passengers on the ship have heard their debacle by now. If they have, they haven’t done anything about it, because no one is screaming, no one is sounding any alarms, and no authorities are coming to arrest them.

“Let him go, Mick.” Len orders.

“Sorry, boss, can’t do that.” Mick replies, bringing Barry forward. Len wishes he brought his cold gun with him. His presence isn’t as nearly as big as he needs it to be in a situation like this. At this point, Barry has stilled in Mick’s hold, resigned for the moment, and Len curses himself for having not foreseen this outcome.

“Aww Lenny, Mick brought us the cute CSI! Barry Allen, is it?” Lisa says, and Len briefly notices Cisco’s eyes widening when she said _cute._

“This _CSI_ is the Flash.” Mick says slowly.

Hartley is the first to react. “I knew it!” He jumps up in triumph. “I fucking _knew it!”_

“Oh my god.” Caitlin says quietly, her hands moving to cover her mouth that’s dropped open in shock. She glances over at Cisco, who is equally shocked. This is the moment that both of them have done everything in their power to prevent. 

“Barry!” Iris shouts, running forward. Mick levels his heat gun at her before she can get very far, but she continues yelling, “Let him go!”

“Can’t do that.” Mick repeats.

“Guys, it’s okay.” Barry speaks, and everyone quiets. “It’s fine, everything will be fine.”

“Like hell it will!” Harry chooses that moment to fire his pulse rifle in Hartley’s direction, and everything next happens very, very fast.

Mick moves the aim of his gun to rest on Harry and fires. Harry, being prepared for this, ducks out of the way and rolls behind another set of decorative crates. Iris, seeing an opening while Mick is distracted, runs towards Barry in a blind fury. She kicks Mick in the shin, then elbows him in the face the best she can while trying to avoid hitting Barry.

Mick hardly flinches, and retaliates by calmly placing the barrel of his gun against Iris’s forehead. Because of this, Mick doesn’t see Caitlin when the scientist moves behind him, whacking him in the head with a small crate that Caitlin picked up from one of the piles. The hit causes Mick to stumble, and it loosens his hold on Barry, who grabs Iris and flashes away. The speedster deposits her safely next to Harry, who is braced behind the crate pile like a sniper and firing shots at the Rogues periodically.

Len surges forward once he sees Caitlin hit his partner, and pulls her back first by her hair and then by her arms, and she violently fights back. After Caitlin gets her bearings—and it only takes a fraction of a moment—she moves her head sharply backwards and fast to hit Snart in the nose with her skull while he’s caught unaware. Len sharply exhales in pain, and Caitlin knows she only has a second before he realizes what’s happened. She shrugs out of his grip, running away towards the side of the ship that’s mainly occupied by her team.

“I thought you trusted me!” Len shouts at Mick once he comes to his senses. He doesn’t care if Mick has come to his own or not.

“I do, but not when you make dumb decisions.” Mick replies, shooting a stream of fire towards Cisco, who is running for cover after he frees himself from Lisa’s hold after Barry knocked her hard in the head. Lisa is scrambling for cover, and fumbling to get the safety off of her gun when Harry shoots her in the forearm. Sam, seeing this, moves forward to protect her from the shot, but misses, walking right into the line of fire of Harry’s next shot which hits him square in the chest. He falls back to the deck with a thump and a yell, and Lisa is screaming something incoherent as she pulls him behind the nearest pile of decorative crates.

Mark and Shawna however are teamed up with Hartley as they fight Jesse and Wally. Len would be lying if he says he isn’t surprised by Wally and Jesse’s fighting skills and he grimaces as Mark lets out a cry of pain. Then Jesse elbows him in the cheekbone, using the continued motion to force Weather Wizard down by the back of his neck where she proceeds to knee him in his stomach not once, but _three_ times. Maybe more if Len could focus enough to count.

Once done, Jesse shoves Mark away from her quickly, and he stumbles to the ground, looking up at her in a mixture of shock and pain as he clutches his abdomen. Wally’s opponent, Shawna, is in a similar situation—did Wally and Jesse exchange fighting moves?—and the younger man is in the act of kicking Hartley in the gut in the same motion Jesse was performing on Mark not a few seconds ago when Jesse suddenly goes flying in Wally’s direction. She shoves him out of the way of one of Mick’s blasts. Harry’s smart enough then to shoot Rathaway in the leg to force him to collapse to the ground, and then Baez in the shoulder to _keep_ her on the ground. Once the three Rogues are in a slowly moving pile that’s slugging towards Len and Mick, Jesse and Wally run back to the rest of Team Flash.

Caitlin has picked up the crate she used to hit Mick in the head and is moving rapidly towards a distracted Roy who is trying in vain to dislodge Cisco, who has jumped on the his back like a monkey. Of course, Roy doesn’t see Caitlin, but Cisco does, and Cisco flies off of Roy’s back at the same time that Caitlin takes his place to knock him over the head with the crate.

Rainbow Raider falls to the ground, knocked out _cold,_ and Caitlin looks horrified at what she’s done.

“Come on Caitlin, we have to go!” Cisco grabs her by her arms, and she drops the box, letting Cisco guide her to a safer location.

It’s _really_ starting to get surprising that no one has noticed them by now.

“Look,” Len pokes Mick in the chest, bringing the bigger man’s focus back to Len and not the fight, and it’s not nearly as intimidating as Len needs it to be. “Flash and I have, no, we _had,_ a _deal,_ and _you_ caused me to break that deal.”

Mick contemplates that for a second, and a lightbulb-level of awareness crosses his features. Mick lowers his gun to his side.

“Is that why you don’t let us kill people, Snart?”

Len confesses because Mick would have found out eventually, “For the sake of keeping us all out of Iron Heights, yes.”

Mick walks away from Len then, and rejoins the rest of the Rogues. Shawna and Mark support each other, back on their feet but not in any condition to fight, and Hartley is leaning back against a crate. Roy has been dragged back over to the rest of the group, but is still very unconscious. Sam is precariously supporting himself next to Lisa, who clutches her forearm, which is throbbing painfully. Len moves to take his place at the forefront of the group, grabbing Mick’s gun right out of his hands as he does so, and waits.

Across from him, Team Flash is crowded behind Barry who has his arms stretched out as wide as they will go. Wells has his pulse rifle aimed loosely in Len’s direction over Barry’s right shoulder, and Eddie has his pistol aimed similarly over Barry’s left. The rest of Team Flash is standing behind them. Barry meets Len’s gaze with complete defiance.

Len feels like he’s been intercepted at one of his heists.

In a way, he’s not wrong.

“Only one of us is leaving this ship, Snart, and it’s not going to be me or anyone on my team.” Barry calls out.

“Sorry, _Barry,_ but I can’t do that.” Len replies. He holds Mick’s gun but rests it at his side so that it’s pointed at the deck, not at Barry or anyone else. He’s faintly aware that Lisa’s is charged and aimed at someone, but he’s not worried about her firing. She wouldn’t do it unless she had Len’s command to do so. Unlike _some_ members of his crew, Lisa _listened_ to Len. “You hurt my team, and that’s not… _cool_ with me _.”_

“You’re criminals!” Barry exclaims.

“If you haven’t noticed, none of my crew have used their powers on any of you.” Len states, and Barry’s arms drop. He hadn’t noticed, as a matter of fact, and a look of confusion crosses Barry’s features before Snart continues talking. “They’re still under my command, and I have a rule that they won’t use their powers while they’re on this ship.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re here!” Barry yells back. “There’s no way it’s just _vacation!”_

“You’re right, it’s not.”

Barry glares.

Len _loves_ it. The kid is _so_ much fun to push.

“Then why _are_ you here?” Barry has the audacity to ask, and Len is _all_ too happy to tell him now.

“The Isle of Fate of course, why else?” Len steps forward. “There’s something I want there, and you’re not going to stop me from getting it.” The heat gun is leveled at the space between Barry’s eyes, but Len doesn’t have his finger on the trigger.

“Barry, he wants the mask. Oh my god, he’s going after the mask.” Cisco whispers, and Barry sighs. Cisco’s hands go to his temples, and he starts freaking out. Iris, who stands next to him, rubs his back and whispers calming words. Len thinks it’s sweet, but it doesn’t deter him.

“The Mask of Fate.” Len enunciates the last syllable almost like a _pop!_ for emphasis, and Cisco cringes visibly. “Apparently I’m not the only one who’s after it. The mask is worth millions, and it’s _mine.”_

“You can’t take that.” Barry says strongly. “I won’t let you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“You’ve already revealed my identity—”

“That wasn’t _my_ fault, Scarlet.”

“—so I have no reason _not_ to throw you into Iron Heights, or any other prison.” Barry threatens.

“That’s _cute,_ but if you call the authorities, then this ship turns right back around and heads straight for Central City, and neither of us get what we want.”

“You trying to make another deal with me?” Barry asks, his tone thick with bewilderment.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Len lowers his gun in a gesture of good faith. Thawne and Wells don’t take the hint. “As long as you and your little Flash buddies don’t try to throw us off this ship, we will do the same for you. My men and women already won’t use their powers, to hurt you or otherwise, so we’d expect the same from you all and your… advantages.” Len gestures to Wells and his obnoxious gun, and Harry’s grip tightens around the barrel.

“What makes me think you’ll keep your word?” Barry asks.

“Red, I fucking shoved you behind a crate _in front of my own team_ to protect your identity.” As if that was sufficient as an answer.

“That’s not an answer.” Wells pipes up.

“And I thought _you_ were dead.” Len spits.

“Long story.” Wells retorts with equal drawl and confidence.

“Back to the _point,”_ Barry interjects, “what happens when we get to the Isle of Fate?”

“It’s a free for all.” Len declares. “All bets are off. First team to the mask gets to have it. Period.”

Barry steps forward, finally lowering his arms—they must be sore by this point—and Len meets him halfway. The speedster holds out his hand, and Len grasps it firmly.

“Wait, shouldn’t we talk about this?” Cisco utters once he can articulate words. The scientist moves away from Iris and closer to Barry once he realizes what the speedster is doing.

“Yeah, Lenny, I agree with Cisco on this one.” Lisa says, voice uneasy.

“Trust me, Cisco.” Barry states, hand squeezing firmly around Len’s when the older man tries to pull away.

“What he said.” Len repeats.

“You don’t mess with us, and we won’t mess with you. No fighting, no killing, and free for all once we get to the Isle of Fate.” Barry confirms.

“Sounds like a regular vacation to me.” Len agrees with a sly grin.

“I think we have a deal then.”

“Guess we do.”

Len and Barry part ways, return to their respective groups, and say nothing else to one another. Harry and Eddie lower their weapons, and they relax, just a little bit.

“You better be right about this.” Cisco tells Barry.

“I hope I am.” Barry tells him.

Team Flash moves to take the stairwell, while the Rogues punch the buttons to the elevators as quick as humanly possible. They’re supporting each other, and while all of them are conscious and able to walk, they are still more snail-like than Len would prefer.

Barry is the last to go through the door, and he turns back at the last second, feeling eyes on the back of his head. Of course, Len is staring at him.

Captain Cold has the audacity to _wink_ at Barry once their eyes meet, and the last thing Barry does is glare before he rejoins the rest of his group on the stairs.

Len doesn’t ignore the flush that hits Barry’s face right before the younger man turns away from him. Len would have to patch up half his team once they got back to their rooms, sure, but maybe having his and Barry’s little meet-up go to shit isn’t the _worst_ thing that could have happened.

Hell, it might even turn out for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, side note: I totally almost named this chapter "Decorative Crates are More than Just Decorative" but I liked the Nirvana reference too much because there aren't many moments that Len is without that sweet gun of his. Plus "Come as You Are" always makes me want to fuck shit up, and the Aerial cover amplifies that.
> 
> Now that shit has gone down--for now--it's time for some fun! Aka some of those tags will finally make sense ;) 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has given me kudos and comments so far. It makes my day.


	6. Jacuzzis can be Manly, Shut Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _OH MY GOD_ 100 flipping kudos?!?!?! Thank you guys so much! 
> 
> Cisco's playlist for this chapter includes [DOLCE & GABBANA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxLS-cpgbe0) by Riff Raff and [Talkin' that Shit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnfpdelL_DI) by Jeff Williams (feat. Lamar Hall).

Barry sits on the edge of his bed, next to Cisco who is furiously typing away on his computer, running the algorithms he should have performed earlier.

“There’s eight Rogues, correct?” Cisco turns to Barry.

“Yeah, I think so.” Barry starts counting on his fingers. “Captain Cold, Heatwave, Peek-a-Boo, Weather Wizard, Rainbow Raider, Mirror Master, Golden Glider, and the Pied Piper. Yeah, eight.”

"Well, Hartley Rathaway got a match," Cisco tells him, and then his expression flattens. "Oh Barry, you're not gonna like this."

~

“Lenny, what were you _thinking?”_ Lisa says once Len slams the door shut and locks it.

“Mick, get the first aid kits.” Len orders, ignoring his sister. Lisa is having _none_ of that and moves to stand directly in front of her brother.

“Seriously, Lenny, what’s going on in that head of yours?” She taps his temple with the end of a manicured fingernail.

“It’s not so bad Lise, Cisco is here after all,” Len answers.

“That’s not the point!” She hisses, “They’re endangering our heist!”

"Snart, she's not wrong," Mark says. "If you'd let me use my powers back there, they would have been—"

“Shut _up,_ Mardon." Len snaps his head in Mark's direction, and tosses—no, _throws like a baseball—_ one of his custom made first aid kits—and they had brought a bunch of them just in case—right at Mark. It hits him on the head.

"Unnecessary!" Mark shouts back but gets to work patching his wounds anyways.

“Look, it won’t be so bad.” Len addresses the rest of the group, that’s either standing or sitting at this point, “We just have to make it a _week_ on a ship with these… _nerds._ Once we get to the Isle, the mask is ours. Let them have their win tonight, it will make them cocky, reckless, and all the more easy to take the artifact from under their noses.”

“Then what do we do in the meantime?” Shawna asks when Len starts to walk towards his room.

He pauses in the doorframe. “I don’t know, have _fun_? Go drink a martini or something.”

Len shuts the door before she can say anything to retaliate and turns off the light. As soon as his face hits the pillow, he sleeps, not even needing to count sheep tonight.

~

Team Flash, on the other hand, is very much awake and gathered in Iris and Eddie’s room. Everyone changed into their sleepwear before Cisco demanded they assemble. Now, they crowd around Cisco’s laptop.

“Captain Cold and his gang of Rogues are in staterooms 7228, 7230, and 7232 on deck seven.” Cisco begins.

“Wait, that’s six decks below _us.”_ Jesse realizes. “We’re in rooms 13228, 13230, and 13232, right?”

"Jesse is correct," Caitlin adds. "We ran any known aliases through the passenger manifest, but only Hartley Rathaway struck a match. The other seven Rogues entered through other aliases."

“Captain Cold is Leonard Caldwell and Golden Glider is Lisa Star. Both are clever right?” Cisco says, reading off the list. “The others follow a similar pattern of aliases. Stan Scooter for Mirror Master, Mark Marco for the Weather Wizard, which is hardly creative at all. Shawna Zeab—also _not_ creative—is Peek-a-boo, Rory Calhoun we are pretty sure is Heatwave, and Chroma Poly is _definitely_ Rainbow Raider, I mean, polychromatic? Seriously?” Cisco laughs.

The others don’t follow suit.

“Alright anyways,” Cisco gets back to his computer, “We are going to keep the balcony locked _at all times._ ”

"And other doors too, Ramon," Harry adds.

“Harry, I was getting to that.” Cisco glares in the older scientist’s direction. “We have to have a protocol.”

“Are you suggesting a curfew?” Wally asks, his voice incredulous.

"No, I don't think that's necessary," Caitlin answers for Cisco. "We were just supposing that a text in the group chat of where you are will suffice." Caitlin nods and Cisco nods with her, "We all have room keys, and we are all adults."

“Any questions?” Barry asks.

No one says anything, the weariness of the day catching up to them all at once.

“Okay, with that, I wish you all a good night." Harry gets up first and walks to his room. Everyone else soon does something similar, and Barry falls asleep the instant he hits the mattress, not even bothering to change his clothes.

~

Len is up at the crack of dawn sipping coffee with way too much cream and sugar on the balcony before waking up the others. It’s currently noon, and while the rest of the Rogues are late risers, Len isn’t going to let them sleep the day away, no matter how much of a vacation this trip may turn out to be. So when Len turns on his cold gun and walks throughout the suite, letting its signature whir flow to each of his crew member’s ears, the remaining Rogues bolt out of bed immediately. Len keeps the safety on and doesn’t even bother wearing the goggles as he does so, but the rest of them understand the implication nonetheless. After all, silently threatening to freeze half the suite tends to be… effective.

Within minutes, they are all seated comfortably on the outdoor balcony, and Len orders room service for everyone, writing down their orders in a gridded notebook that _definitely_ has a snowflake on the front of it. Lisa had given it to him for his last birthday.

Their food arrives within fifteen minutes, and after Len tips the cruise ship employee _very_ generously, the group spends the next seven minutes digging into their dishes.

“So you mean to tell me, that the whole week that we are on this _massive_ ship, all we are doing is floating around on the water?” Shawna asks Len once she’s eaten half her food. Len also just explained that the Rogues were free to roam the ship all day, since they aren’t going to drop anchor until they reach the _Isle of Fate,_ and that was now five days away _._ They could go over the heist again closer to the Isle.

“Yes, that’s _exactly_ what I am saying. That’s what a ‘day at sea’ means.” Len tells her, meeting her gaze and dropping the notebook down on the table in favor of taking a bite of his eggs which are still warm. He ordered them to be cooked over easy, and the chef had delivered.

"Shawna, you do realize there are two spas here, correct?" Lisa pokes her in the side, drawing Shawna's attention away from Len before the two could start an argument. "We could go get hot stone massages if you're up for it." She winks at the teleporter, and gets a smile in return. "At least I think they have those. I'll go through one of these catalogs…"

Lisa's voice trails off as she goes inside, then runs back out to start going through the mountain of catalogs that were previously in _Len’s_ room, in front of _his_ television. The things he put up with.

“Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Drinks, Excursions, Amenities, Safety Guidelines… ah! Spa and relaxation services!” She pulls out a thin booklet that is close to the bottom of the pile, and Shawna’s face lights up as she snatches it from Lisa and starts flipping through it.

Within a minute, Lisa and Shawna are paying no attention to the rest of the Rogues, already making plans and working out how they are to budget their time.

"There's live music around 4, so I'll probably go to that," Hartley says. "Anyone is welcome to join me. There _is_ a bar, but know I don’t mind drinking alone, so don’t feel any obligation.”

“Piper,” Mick says. “If you’re drinking, I’ll go with you.”

Hartley looks at him in surprise. As much as he is a loner, Hartley hadn’t _expected_ anyone to actually take him up on the offer, let alone Mick _fucking_ Rory of all people. Of course, this doesn’t stop Hartley from staring at Mick in open-mouthed shock.

“Hey, why you looking at me like that? I have a soft spot for smooth jazz.” Rory questioned.

Sam pipes up. “Yeah and a hard spot for—”

“—drinking and smooth jazz.” Mick finishes, shutting him down immediately and sending him a _look_. Roy is close to laughing his ass off. Mark isn't even trying to hide his amusement and has already slapped his knee three times. James is merely grinning and Hartley looks horrified.

_Good,_ Mick thinks, grumbling to himself. He eats the last bite of his blueberry pancake and then collects the pancake bits he hadn't picked up the first time.

Len speaks after a moment and the second he opens his mouth, all eyes are on him, as they should be.

“While you all,” Len pauses, met eyes with each of them, “are out doing your many little _things,_ I’ll be doing my own as well.”

"You mean taking advantage of the Jacuzzis," Mick tells him.

“I _may_ or may not be taking advantage of the Jacuzzis," Len says in the exact same tone and inflection as his previous statement. Mick smiles just a little bit, and Len shoots him a death glare. "Everyone needs to relax, _Mick._ ”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Mick scrapes the remaining blueberry sauce off of his plate, stands up, and walks back to his room, presumably to change into actual clothes instead of the red flannel pajamas he had been sleeping in. “Hartley, I’ll see you in the Hall of Music at four. For your info, it’s on the third deck towards the bow.”

“You know, Captain Cold here made us _all_ memorize the ship’s layout.” Hartley says, “I know where it is.”

Before Mick can utter a snappy reply, Hartley goes off to his own room to get some peace and quiet before his ears were inevitably assaulted by, yes, beautiful smooth jazz that is incredibly pleasing, but also noise, and noise, and more noise. It sucks that he loves music so much, yet it causes him so much pain if he isn’t careful.

~

Len is in his swimsuit trunks—which _do_ have snowflakes on them—sitting in a Jacuzzi on the fourteenth deck of the ship within twenty minutes. He lets the warm bubbles wrap him up in their Jacuzzi-bubbly-goodness and after a time, feels his muscles start to relax. For someone whose nickname is "Captain Cold" he sure does enjoy some warmth, especially when the sun is shining overhead without a cloud in the sky, and the water is the perfect temperature to ease his nerves. From his vantage point at the bow of the ship, he sees a gorgeous view of the port side of the ship from his place on the starboard side. He likes to people-watch, and this location was _perfect_ for it.

All is calm.

Except for—

“ _Leonard Caldwell!”_ A very, _very_ familiar voice screeches through the air.

Len turns to face the voice, armed with a knockout smirk, and none other than _Barry Allen_ runs over—normal speed—to the Jacuzzi that Len solely occupies.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Barry questions.

Len doesn’t grant him an immediate reply, instead opting to run his eyes up and down Barry’s half naked form, taking in his swim trunks—which _definitely_ have the Flash logo on them—which makes Barry blush.

"I could ask you the same question," Len says slowly. "Now get in the Jacuzzi."

“I am _not_ getting in a Jacuzzi with Captain Cold!” Barry argues. “I didn’t even know Captain Cold _liked_ Jacuzzis.”

“Shhhh, you’re making a scene. People are staring at us, Barry.”

“ _I’m_ making a scene?” Barry challenges.

“Yes, Barry, now get in the damn Jacuzzi before I pull you in here myself, and _don’t_ think I won’t do it.”

Barry gets into the damn Jacuzzi.

“I swear if you try to drown me, or pull any shit, so help me I will phase you right through this entire ship and—”

Len presses his index finger to Barry's lips and cuts off his words.

“Hey, I made a promise, Scarlet. If I wanted you hurt, you’d be injured by now.”

Barry swallows.

Len removes his finger.

“And to answer your question from earlier, I’m here to _relax,_ unlike some people _._ ” Len leans back against the walls of the Jacuzzi more comfortably and puts his arms on either side to rest on the deck. Barry is as far away from Len as possible, on the total opposite side of the whirlpool, but Len can see the speedster is relaxing minutely, especially when he figures out there is a massage jet directly behind the lower half of his back.

“Supervillains need to relax?” Barry says, not believing a word Len says, tone noticeably less frantic. “Aren’t you like, always planning heists? No rest? No stopping? Are you telling me that _Captain Cold_ takes breaks?”

Len flicks some water in Barry’s direction, and he sees Barry dodge out of the way, noticing a slight blur as he did so. It is a blur that Len catches—and one he was expecting—but only because he was watching for it.

What he doesn’t expect is Barry’s literally-instant retaliation. The speedster places both of his hands together, palms out to create a vertical and flat surface, and there is no way in hell Len will be able to get out of the way of Barry’s small tidal wave before it hits him.

So when Len sees that telltale blur just under the surface of the water, he steels himself for what was to follow and refuses to flinch. Barry will _not_ get the satisfaction.

Barry still laughs at him when his previously dry head gets drenched in hot Jacuzzi water.

“Just thought you might need to _cool_ down.” Barry puns.

“Barry, you splashed me with hot water.” Len is wiping the water out of his eyes now, running his hands over his shaved head to get the worst of the droplets out.

“You get the point, Snart.”

The other man lets out a frustrated noise at the name.

“Call me Len. It’s easier and less… harsh on the ears.” Len instructs.

Barry’s eyes widen, and Len gets a little pleasure from that, and the two are quiet for several moments.

“So... you’re just here alone? In a Jacuzzi?” Barry asks hesitatingly. “Where are the others?”

“Around.”

“I still can’t believe you brought the Rogues on a cruise ship. _”_

“Not _all_ of them.” Len states. “The Rogues refers to my criminal collective. I only brought Lisa, Mick, Hartley, Roy, Mark, Sam, and Baez. I left the others back in Central because they either refused or were too much of a _liability.”_

“They’re all a liability!” Barry points out. “ _You’re_ a liability!”

Len doesn't comment and lets his usual smirk turn into a chuckle. "I could say the same things about your… friends. Speaking of, where are _they,_ since we are asking questions no one is getting the answers to.”

“Around.” Barry supplies.

“And your plans for the rest of the day?”

“None of your business.” Barry answers, shifting to let the Jacuzzi massage his back better. It _is_ quite nice, he must admit. “I’ll be… around.”

“You have dinner at seven with the rest of the passengers. Meet me at the casino after dessert. I have a few… games I want to play with you.” Len smirks, and Barry’s face goes red.

“I can’t.” Barry sputters, his gaze weak. “I already have plans.”

“Oh come _on,_ Scarlet, you’re a _terrible_ liar.” Len drawls, slipping deep into the icy tone that he uses as Captain Cold.

It makes Barry tense automatically.

“I should have just walked away the second I saw you last night.” Barry snaps. “Did you really not know we were here?”

“So that’s a yes to the casino?”

“Shut up and answer the question, Snart!” Barry is visibly angry now, and Len _loves_ it.

“ _Len.”_

Barry growls, fists clenching under the water. Len notices they are blurring a little around the edges, and it almost appears as if they are… vibrating?

_It’s probably an effect of the water._ Len assures himself, shoving back any other… implications that his recent observation might entail.

“No, Red, we didn’t know you and your little Flash buddies would be here.” Len finally answers. “Not until the Bon Voyage party last night.”

“You’re sure?”

“Maybe,” Len says—just to piss Barry off—and the speedster fumes again as his hands… yes, they are _definitely_ vibrating.

Len swallows.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you," Len adds, and Barry rolls his eyes, relieved, though he is still skeptical, and for good reason. “Just trying to _steal_ some relaxation currently.”

“Stealing some relaxation from me, apparently.” Barry mutters.

“I _am_ a good thief," Len adds.

The younger man lets out a frustrated noise, talks no further, and gets up out of the Jacuzzi then. He heads towards the towel rack, dripping wet. The drops run down his hair and his sides, falling down his back and—

"Nice trunks, Scarlet," Len calls out.

Barry freezes in his tracks.

“Back off, Snart.” Barry snaps back at him with a biting tone.

“ _Len._ ” He corrects again. “And the casino offer is still open.”

Barry lets out a frustrated sound and keeps walking. Len eyes him with a watchful eye as Barry thinks better of leaving, and instead drops into the Jacuzzi on the port side of the ship, still in direct view of Len.

_This isn’t over,_ Barry thinks.

Meanwhile, with silent thanks to Jackson Pollock and his idiotic art for funding this adventure, Len leans his head back against the walls of the Jacuzzi and lets himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're right, Barry. It's not over.
> 
> I promise this is not the last time we see Len and Barry in Jacuzzis. 
> 
> In addition, when I was originally writing this as a one-shot, I originally planned for Len and Barry to meet like this. Barry would see Len in a hot tub, and be like "Snart wtf dude" and they literally would just both be on vacation, as an actual coincidence. But the hot tub scene here, while modified to fit the actual plot of this story, was the first scene I ever wrote. 
> 
> Also, Cisco's playlist this chapter is mainly the soundtrack for how I imagine Len chilling in a hot tub like the mob boss that he is.


	7. The Most Awkward Massage in the Life of Barry Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Cisco does some montage-worthy things this chapter he deserves some montage worthy songs. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist includes [Snowcone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amBBO4PqJKo) by Deadmau5 (good thinking music), [Victorious](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqtccBzsmpI) by Rich Judd (because I couldn't get it out of my head in the promos, and it's applicable for plan-making) and [Purple Gusher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqtccBzsmpI) by Rezz (because it's just awesome).

Barry doesn’t last long in a Jacuzzi that is this close to Leonard Snart, or _Len,_ as he wishes himself to be called. The speedster tries to relax, tries to focus, tries to think of _anything_ other than the way Snart, no, _Len_ smirked at him, and how _nice_ that looked on him. In vain, Barry also tries not to focus on the lingering eyes that he is all-too-aware that are on the back of his neck as he attempts to let go of some of his Captain-Cold-induced tension.

It's easier to think clearly when he isn't within a hundred feet of a known criminal who has kidnapped two of his close friends and has _literally killed people._ Why Barry didn’t try to turn Len into the authorities on the spot amazes him, but at the same time, Barry needs to think of Cisco, and how his visions _are_ getting worse.

Cisco _had_ screamed himself awake last night. Half of the suite was up immediately, with the other half not far behind. Wally looked like he had seen a ghost, and according to his reports, Cisco had screamed directly in Wally’s direction, opened his eyes really, _really_ wide, and only _then_ had the metahuman awoken.

After helping Cisco calm down, which had included Barry running him outside to the balcony to throw up and get some air—hoping he would hit the deck of the Rogues’ suite if his aim was good enough—and Caitlin retrieving some high-powered headache meds that were basically a more intense form of Excedrin from her purse, Cisco was able to go back to sleep.

Wally, on the other hand, had lay awake for at _least_ another hour, just out of sheer paranoia. How he was going to get through the week he didn’t know.

Now, Barry wipes his eyes of lingering sleepiness, and gets up out of the Jacuzzi again, heading for the towel rack once more. He’s sure Len is watching him, but he doesn’t bother watching back.

~

He meets up with Iris and Eddie, who are in the middle of a couples massage in the spa on deck fifteen.

"Barry, join us!" Eddie suggests before Barry can even say if he has time, or if he even _wants_ to.

“Eddie, I’m not sure if—” Barry begins, but a look from Iris quiets him.

"We can accommodate a third party if that is what you wish." The masseuse adds. "There will be an extra fee, however."

"I'll cover it," Eddie tells the masseuse. "Charge it to my card."

“Eddie, I’m supposed to be paying for everything.” Barry reminds him, then turns to the masseuse. “Charge it to Barry Allen please, stateroom 13230.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Allen.” The masseuse furiously writes down the details Barry has given them, and in the time it takes for that to occur, Barry quickly changes out of his clothes and slips over to the massage table next to Iris.

Iris—of course—waits until Barry is blissed out on endorphins to ask him about his problems.

"So what's up, Barry? Talk to me.” She begins.

“Yeah Barry, talk to us," Eddie adds.

Well, that's just downright _awkward._

He lets it happen regardless. Barry had long since accepted the fact that Eddie and Iris really were a thing, and the chances of them falling apart so Barry could have a shot at Iris again were so slim it was unbelievable.

Gideon had mentioned the timeline had changed the last time he had asked her about its integrity, but she refused to tell him _why_ despite his commands to give up the truth to him.

So, in summary, Barry had moved on.

But that doesn’t mean a couples massage with Iris and Eddie is okay, because it most certainly is _not_. But if it would please Iris, the girl he had loved for so long, well, who was Barry to deny her _that?_

“I saw Len earlier.” He begins. “In the—”

“Leonard Snart?” Eddie interrupts.

“…yes,” Barry says quietly.

“Wait a minute, since when are you calling Captain Cold _Len_?” Iris asks.

"If you'd let me finish my story, you'd know," Barry says sternly, and once he knows the two of them won't pester him further for calling Len anything other than _Len_ , he continues.

He regales them the story of the hot tub—“They can be manly, shut up”—leaving out a few details, like the splash fight, and Len’s suggestive comments on his swimsuit trunks.

“So, after he demands you call him _Len,_ he invites you to go to the casino with him?” Iris says, clearly dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Barry confirms.

“You should go, Barry.” Eddie finally adds something positive to the conversation for the first time since Barry arrived.

“Why?”

“Well have you ever been to a casino before?” Eddie asks.

“No, not really, but I have some knowledge of how the games work, like Blackjack and Roulette.” Barry supplies the information easily, recalling how he had researched the topics once upon a time.

“See, you know some of the games.” Eddie encourages. “Just kick Snart’s ass to show him who’s boss.”

Barry laughs. "I don't think that's possible. I'm sure they have a casino night at Saints and Sinners back at Central. I've seen people playing when I went to ask him for help with the metas the first time back before…" Barry pauses, and Eddie is sure of what comes next. "Eobard betrayed us all."

“Barry, don’t worry about it. Just go try and kick Snart’s stupid cold butt tonight.” Eddie tells him, a smile on his face.

“Maybe you could figure out a sly way to use your…skills," Iris adds, silently reminding the two of them to keep their whole situation on the down low because of the masseuses. "Just think about it, if they shuffle cards in front of you—"

“—I could theoretically memorize the layout of the deck,” Barry whispers, quiet enough that only Iris could hear. Barry could care less about whether Eddie heard or not, if he was being honest. “And I wouldn’t even need to know it for longer than thirty minutes.” He finishes, and Iris is smiling wide.

"See, it might be possible to destroy Snart at cards after all. You should do it, Barr." Iris concludes.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

"Tell us how it goes," Eddie says. "Both of us."

Barry grudgingly agrees, and Iris tells him to relax.

He enjoys the rest of the massage, despite Eddie’s presence in the room with him, thinking instead of how he might prove to Len that he isn’t _always_ the boss.

Barry was beginning to think that maybe that had been the point of Len’s invitation all along.

Either way, he had—if it could dare be considered as such—a date with Leonard Snart? If it was just between friends… could Barry even call them friends? They _were_ enemies last time he checked.

But for the duration of their vacation, for the duration of their _truce,_ maybe he didn’t have to be.

~

Meanwhile, Cisco and Caitlin have chosen to be holed up in their stateroom in favor of making a plan. They’re both a little too afraid to venture outside as it is. Cisco is trying to avoid confrontations with Hartley at all costs, and the same can be said for Caitlin who wants to avoid seeing Mick with everything in her being.

If Barry doesn’t want the Rogues off the ship until they reach the Isle of Fate, then it’s up to the two of them, the people _always_ making plans for Team Flash as it was, to figure out what the hell Team Flash was going to do once they got the Isle of Fate.

They will get the mask. Not because they want to, but because they _have_ to.

“So right now, we are going off the assumption that Captain Cold has his cold gun with him?” Cisco holds a white board marker in his hand. They had been lucky room service could bring them a whiteboard _with_ markers.

Being such a high-level passenger had its perks, that’s for sure.

“Yes, I do believe so. If not, we should still plan for contingencies.” Caitlin holds a blue marker in her own hand—Cisco’s is green, and they have the red one close by for corrections—and is scribbling the loose shape of the cold gun on the board.

“Alright, so assuming Captain Cold has the cold gun, we have to counteract that, because if he shoots Barry at any point once we get to Isle, then we lose our primary chance at getting the mask.”

“I see what you mean,” Caitlin nods, “are you suggesting we turn the Cortex of the Seas”—the name had grown on Caitlin _very_ quickly, as Cisco had predicted—“into the Cortex back at S.T.A.R. Labs?”

“That’s _exactly,”_ Cisco smiles, "what I'm saying. We have all the equipment. Of course, we brought the suit and the backup suit, along with the comms, just as I brought my vibing goggles as well, just to be safe."

"Always so clever, Cisco," Harry says from the doorframe, pulse rifle slung over his shoulder. "I want in."

“You’re already helping us with obtaining the mask…” Cisco says.

“No, I want in on the _planning._ ”

“Oh _hell_ no.” Cisco pipes up. “Nope. Not happening. Caitlin and I have it covered.”

“Actually, Cisco,” Caitlin interjects, “Harry does still have years of Earth-2—”

“—Earth-1,” Harry huffs.

“Well, whichever earth you come from—” Caitlin begins again.

“Earth-1,” Harry interjects again.

“You have years of military skill under your belt, that’s all! And I think it would be helpful in determining out strategy once we get to the Isle of Fate,” She all but shouts when she turns to Harry, “I’m trying to help you, _Harry_!”

Cisco is laughing, far too entertained by Harry’s insistence on still being a complete and utter dick at every opportunity imaginable.

“Fine, fine, Harry can help.” Cisco allows, “But don’t be a dick about it.”

"I can't promise that, Nabisco." Harry enters the room and sits down on the bed next to Cisco after propping his pulse rifle nearby against Barry's dresser.

“Just listen for now, then," Cisco explains. "We are currently trying to plan for the most likely chance that Captain Cold brought his Cold Gun on this ship, much like how you brought your pulse rifle."

“Which did come in handy, you have to admit.” Wells insists.

"Yes, it did," Cisco admits through gritted and frustrated teeth. "Anyways, if Barry gets his ass frozen by Captain Cold early enough, we have no chance at the mask." He signals to Caitlin to pick up with the next part of the explanation.

"So Cisco and I thought it best we turn the Cortex of the Seas into the Cortex we have back at S.T.A.R. Labs, and go forward with this mission as if it's like any other since that's what we are comfortable with. Cisco and I would stay back, serving as Barry's second set of eyes and ears." She explains, and Harry is listening intently.

“And between now and then, I can work with what I can find on the ship, to modify Barry’s suit enough to handle at least one blast from the cold gun to throw Captain Cold off long enough to get the upper hand.” Cisco finishes. “That’s what we have so far.”

"But this is assuming Cold will shoot at Barry, and that he has the gun," Harry confirms.

“Yes, it’s called _Plan A,_ Harry.” Cisco declares. “We can work on Plan B in a bit.”

Cisco and Caitlin get to recording Plan A on the white board, done with a mix of neatly organized bulleted lists that Caitlin takes care of and Cisco tasks himself with putting the rest of their ideas for Plan A up on the board using creative flow charts, connecting the bubbles of thought with thick and thin arrows alike.

When they’re done, Harry is impressed, but he will never give Cisco nor Caitlin the satisfaction of knowing that. It isn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

Instead, he plucks the green marker from Cisco’s hands, corrects the younger man’s misspelling of Earth-1—Harry is growing tired of this—along with sharpening some of the lines of Cisco’s arrows and revising the contours of the bubbles of thought.

"Much better," Harry says, and flat out chucks the marker in Cisco's direction.

He doesn’t catch it.

“ _Come on,_ Harry. Even hundreds of miles from S.T.A.R. Labs you still find excuses to throw my stuff.” Cisco accuses.

“I don’t need excuses, Ramon.” Harry retorts, grabbing Caitlin’s marker from her hand and throwing it also in Cisco’s direction.

Caitlin’s expression is also one that is pissed, like Cisco’s.

"Now you have two people who hate you, Harry," Cisco tells him, picking up the thrown markers and placing them far away from Harry.

“Fine with me. Time to work on Plan B then?” He says.

“Yes, time to work on Plan B.” Cisco is growing weary of the decision to let Harry help them already. The older man reaches for a marker, and Cisco denies his unspoken request. “Oh no, you don’t get this at all. Not until you prove your worth.”

“Whatever you say, Ramon.” And then Caitlin hands him a marker.

“Traitor!” Cisco accuses. Caitlin just shrugs.

The three of them get to work.

The group has made it through Plan C, when Barry bursts, no, _phases_ through the stateroom doors and phases again through the wall where Cisco, Caitlin, and Harry are in the _zone,_ where they have the correct headspace for optimal planning.

“Guys I need to tell you something…” And Barry updates them on the Snart Situation, and with that, the monorail of productivity goes off the rails, crashes, and burns. Harry gives up, grabs his rifle, and goes outside on the balcony to get some air.

"After dinner, I'm going to the Casino, with Len." Barry finishes.

“You call him Len now?” Caitlin asks. “What did you two talk about in those Jacuzzis?”

Barry looks at them, dumbfounded.

"Of course we keep tabs on you, Barry, it's our job as your team," Cisco adds. "And the security cameras of this ship are _far_ too easy to hack into.”

“Disregarding that, when?” Caitlin asks.

“Literally immediately after dinner. The more important thing is what do you wear to a casino?”

"Wear a suit, my suit," Cisco says immediately. "It will tell everyone you mean _business_.”

Cisco produces Barry's formal suit and hands it to Barry, who takes it.

He quick changes into it.

"Good luck dude," Cisco tells him.

Caitlin nods in agreement.

As long as Barry could hold his own and get his shit together without embarrassing himself too much.

And since enduring The Most Awkward Massage in the Life of Barry Allen, Barry had decided that things could be worse, and honestly, hanging with Len at a casino—dare he think it possible—may be fun after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, it will be fun, Barry! *wink wink* *nudge nudge*


	8. Trying to Keep a Straight Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week, Fate is Tempted (I had to do it at least once) when Barry and Len have their own personal-and very illegal-casino night. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Oh Yeah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-TRpXlhpU8) by All Good Things and [Get Lucky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2f6lNmmd1M) by Daft Punk.

After dinner, Barry promptly makes his way to the entrance of the Casino, and then waits for Len to show. If Barry is being honest with himself, he can't believe he's doing this. If Barry is being _more_ honest with himself, he would dare say he’s looking forward to it.

After all, the thought of The Flash going against one of his nemeses with no lives on the line and no one in danger? It sounds… fun.

Len shows and saves Barry the trouble of thinking about that last part too much, especially when the older man gives Barry a once-over, eyes gliding graciously over Barry's suit. Barry, however, is a little too busy looking over Len's gratuitous suit, which is sharply cut and well tailored.

The speedster swallows. Len notices.

“Len, hey, I—” Barry says no more as a cold glass is pressed to his lips.

“Coke. Grenadine. One lemon. One lime _. Iced.”_ Len informs him. The speedster really shouldn’t be surprised that _Captain Cold_ knows his drink choices, especially after the events of the night before, but that doesn’t stop Barry from raising a set of quizzical brows in lieu of speaking.

Barry accepts the glass from him, takes a sip, and sees that Len holds a similar drink in his own hand.

“Yours actually has rum in it, right?” Barry glances again at the drink.

“Not at all. If I want to think,” Len replies easily, tapping his temple. “I don’t get to drink. So, I’ll be getting virgin _everything_ tonight.”

Barry glares.

“Come on Scarlet, don’t want to be late, do we?” Len walks forward quickly, and Barry takes a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

“There aren’t appointments at casinos, Snart!”

“Come on _Barry,_ if you’re not going to call me Len, at least call me _Caldwell._ Surely your little scientist friend did a check on the passengers after our… _incident_ last night. I expected you to be a little more… informed.”

“Just walk, _Len.”_ Barry mocks, and takes the lead, not bothering to look behind him.

Len smirks and follows him.

The first thing Barry notices is the sheer amount of _sound_ in the casino. He wouldn’t say that the casino is crowded _,_ but there are a _lot_ of people, and they’re _all_ making noise. There is an enormous amount of reel slot machines that line the walls of the casino, and groups of four to six machines are sprinkled in between card tables for roulette, poker, blackjack, craps, and baccarat. Sound effects emanate from the slot machines, and between the noises of approval and disapproval from fellow passengers and crew alike, it's a little… crazy.

The second thing Barry notices is the amount of _light_. Greens, blues, purples, and every color in between assault Barry’s vision the second he steps through the bright archway that welcomes him into the world of gambling. Even the _ceiling_ is littered with lights, and where there isn’t an onslaught of brilliance, there are reflective surfaces that _amplify_ the lighting that’s already present. Barry glances at Len, who remains unfazed by the environment, already used to it, _comfortable_.

“You seem a little overwhelmed there, Scarlet.” Len taps Barry on the shoulder.

Barry snaps back to the present. “Not at all, _Cold._ ”

Len grabs Barry by the forearm, and guides him over to a booth close to the entrance, and holds out a platinum credit card to the lady behind the counter.

“Twenty in quarters please.” Len smiles, “Ten for me and ten for him.”

The woman exchanges the money quickly and hands back a roll of quarters to Len and another to Barry.

“Did you steal the money on that card?” Barry whispers once they are out of earshot.

"A magician never tells his secrets, Scarlet," Len says, much to Barry’s dismay. “But I do have a thing for shitty ‘art’, as you know," He winks, and takes a seat at one of the slot machines, motioning for Barry to do the same next to him. Barry rolls his eyes but reluctantly sits down. He was hoping that they would go for the card tables first, but slot machines would have to do, for now.

Lucky for Barry, he’s seen enough television shows and movies to know where to _put_ the quarter to allow him to turn the crank. He hesitantly pulls it towards him, but when Len gives him a sidelong glance, Barry yanks it forward and lets it fly.

He loses, of course.

The probability of winning at reel slots is low as it is, and Len seems to know this, as he’s flying through his quarters so fast that he’s halfway done before he gets _any_ win.

Four quarters spit out into Len's hand and Barry snickers from next to him.

Len stares into Barry’s soul as he shoves the next quarter in and pulls the lever forward, and as Barry’s luck would have it, _this_ time Len wins something a little more substantial.

Five bucks in quarters. It’s not much, but Len now has more credit available than Barry, and this doesn’t sit well with the speedster. He isn’t about to be shown up by Captain Cold, he can’t be.

Barry looks at the glass—the _thin_ glass—that sits between him and the reels, and he thinks back to what Iris said in the spa. The transparent material is thin, and it wouldn’t be _too_ harmful if…

No. No. _No._

He will _not_ break the law to show up a criminal. He refuses to stoop to that level. Iris' suggestions be damned, he just can't do it.

Barry manually brings the lever down and loses again.

And again.

And again.

Len is stealing glances at him throughout, and Barry doesn’t have to even _look_ at him to know he’s smirking. On Barry’s other side, there’s a man clearly entertained by Barry’s tense groans at every loss. Len has a sizable pile of quarters in front of him _._

Barry makes it to the penultimate quarter quarter—of his stack and gives up trying to play by the rules.

_Time to level the playing field,_ Barry thinks, and jerks the lever forward. The reels spin at a fast speed, but it’s downright _child’s_ play to call on the Speedforce and watch them turn in slow motion. It's almost laughable, really.

Barry’s fingers start buzzing with Speedforce-infused vibrations and he reaches forward through the glass. It's thinner than he expects, and it's just too simple. He gently lets the tip of his middle finger—because fuck Leonard Snart—guide the first reel to the ‘jackpot' face which happens to be a big 7. He does this with the second reel and then the third.

…and 286 dollars in quarters comes _flying_ out of the machine, one by one.

Len hiccups and coughs at the same time.

A woman nearby shrieks and spills her wine.

Barry smiles because he should have done this sooner.

“Holy shit!” Barry shouts, and steals Len’s popcorn bucket—at normal speed—from its shocked owner, leaping in triumph. “I won!”

The bucket gets heavy _fast_ because 286 dollars in quarters weighs a _lot._ Len stops playing to _star_ e at Barry's winnings.

_Barry won, sure_ , Len thinks, narrowing his gaze.

Abruptly, the machine suddenly stops, and an even louder—but still distinct—beeping fills the air. Before Barry and Len realize what's happening, a cruise employee wheels over a cart with _even more quarters_ and is dumping them into the machine. The employee, after finishing his work, presses a button on the slot machine to let the quarters keep flowing.

Barry had hit the jackpot so hard they had to _refill_ it.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes before the machine quits its ringing and flashing—which had gotten annoying quick—and ceases spitting out quarters.

“Okay, _Caldwell,_ this is fun," Barry tells Len. He grabs a handful of quarters and lets them clink back into the bucket, one by one, and then all at once. Barry has taken his seat again, and Len awkwardly tries to sit on his own stool.

The image Len sees then, of Barry Allen holding a popcorn bucket containing _sixty pounds_ _of quarters_ looking as if he’s won a million dollars and _not_ 286 is…endearing.

"Scarlet, it looks like you have some luck after all," Len says.

“Some things happen by chance, and other things happen because we _make_ them happen.” Barry winks, standing up and starting to walk away.

“What, done with slots already?” Len inquires. “But you’re so _good_ at them.”

Ah yes, Len _knows._

“Let’s go play cards, _”_ Barry’s still high on endorphins, and he laughs, just genuinely _laughs,_ and it’s _nice_. _“_ I want to see how you fare against me in Blackjack, _Snowflake_.”

Len grabs Barry’s arm, and pulls him close so that his lips are right against the speedster’s ear, “Oh it’s _on._ ” Len says.

He leaves Barry flustered as he brushes past the younger man to return to the booth by the entrance. Then it's Barry's turn to follow Len after he takes a speedster moment to get himself together, and he catches up quickly enough to shove his bucket of quarters up on the counter, where the woman behind it can exchange _all_ of them for chips. Len splits the chips between them, and Barry doesn’t argue, and they walk together to the first Blackjack table they see.

Despite there being thousands of square feet of casino space on this ship, it’s full. Barry’s face falls, and Len finds it almost humorous. They choose to wait and end up taking seats at a different table that's father down.

Len and Barry sit next to each other. Len then threatens Barry's loved ones if he sneaks a peek at his cards. Barry humors him and agrees.

The dealer gathers everyone's attention and takes the card deck, which has a hole drilled through the center of it, and shuffles.

Barry slows down time. There was a minute chance that they would shuffle the cards by machine out of view of the players, but fortunate for Barry, this casino did things the old fashioned way, leading Barry to believe he really might be luckier than he originally expected.

After Barry lets the card shuffling slow to a crawl, his brain quickly memorizes the order of the cards. While it’s not the easiest thing he’s ever done, it’s much more enjoyable than reading through an introductory chronodynamics textbook.

The dealer looks to Barry and Len, and Len points to Barry, motioning for him to go first. Barry nods, not backing down. It’s time to show Len who’s boss.

The dealer places down one card face down—it’s a 4—and then a king face up. Barry knows he has 14 on the table—the 4 plus the king which is 10—and the next card in the dealer’s hand is a 2.

Barry places 25$ in chips on the table and pushes it forward.

“Hit.”

The 2 goes down, and Len chuckles next to him. The next card is a 3, and Barry adds another $5 to the pile of chips he’s betting.

“Hit.” He repeats.

The 3 lands there and Barry's public total is 9.

“Stand.”

The dealer confirms, and plays their own hand in full view of Barry, and she puts a 7 facedown, and then plays a king and chooses to stand.

They turn their cards over, and Len tries not to gape when Barry’s card turns out to be a king.

Barry doesn’t hide his dramatics when he takes his winnings, and he pokes Len in the shoulder, eyes bright with mischief.

“Your turn.”

“We’ll see, Scarlet," Len says. "I'm feeling pretty good about this one."

It was a gamble, hoping that the dealer wouldn’t draw another card and ruin Len’s potential hand, but it’s going to pay off, that he knows.

Barry’s mouth drops open—and he doesn’t even bother hiding it—when Len’s hand is a natural 21. Then he glares, and Len collects his own winnings.

They have a rematch, and Barry memorizes the deck again, determined Len’s hand was a freak luck incident.

Turns out it is, but as much as Barry wins, Len wins more. Neither of them bust, not once, in the five rounds they play. By the end of it, they can tell the dealer is suspicious, as are the onlookers. Len tugs on Barry’s sleeve, and they walk away from the table, buckets heavy with chips, before they can be accused of anything.

“You look surprised.” He whispers to the speedster when they stop at one of the slot machines. Len tugs absentmindedly on one of the levers.

“You cheated.” Barry pipes up, leaning his head forward.

“And you didn’t?” Len retorts.

“You actually cheated-cheated, like _formally_ cheated.”

“Tell me what you did and I’ll tell you what I did.” Len negotiates, tilting his chin up.

“I memorized the deck when they shuffled it.”

Len raises an eyebrow; he hadn’t seen that coming, actually. He had merely suspected Barry had been doing some weird speedster thing where he was flash-checking the cards before they were put down. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can read books in thirty seconds, and memorize the content, but it only stays in my head for half an hour," Barry explains. "It comes in handy with things like this. Your turn.”

"I count cards," Len admits.

"Oh," Barry says, caught off guard as well, but then again he didn’t know what he was expecting.

“My dad taught me. Used me to hustle money from unsuspecting strangers on casino night.” Len’s face hardens, and Barry decides it’s time to do something else.

“Do you want to play that game where they throw the ball on the wheel and people bet on it?” Barry offers.

“You mean _Roulette,_ Barry?” Len smiles and the hardness from Len’s face vanishes. Success.

“Yeah, that. Let’s go play that.”

Barry starts walking, but Len grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Not so fast _,”_ Len puns, “As if I’m going to let you cheat in front of me again. I don’t plan on losing to a man with superspeed _and_ super-reading-comprehension.”

“Then what do _you_ suggest we do?”

“Oh we’re playing Roulette,” Len releases Barry’s sleeve with his free hand, “But we’re doing it _together.”_ Len releases Barry’s sleeve, adjusts his suit jacket, and levels his gaze, _“_ And you’re going to cheat for me. _”_

"No way, not happening," Barry says.

“Oh come _on,_ Barry, you’ve been using your powers all night, why stop now?” Len reasons. “We could make bank.”

“You have enough money.”

“So do you, if I have my facts right. I just think you don’t like the idea of aiding a known criminal in a casino game.” Len accuses.

He’s not wrong. Barry hadn’t minded using his powers to kick Len’s ass—well trying to, those Blackjack games were _flukes_ —but working _with_ Captain Cold, on anything? Barry is still scarred from the _last_ time he worked with Cold, so even partnering with him to kick the house’s ass in a casino game is still a whole new thought process that Barry isn’t sure he’s ready for yet.

Then again, there’s a first time for everything.

He’s going to regret this later, he’s sure.

“One game,” Barry settles, voice tentative.

Len moves forward and smiles. “Lead the way.”

“One more thing,” Barry says, stopping in his tracks.

Len does the same, “What is it now?”

“I… don’t know how to play Roulette.”

"I'll teach you," Len says, and before Barry can overthink it, Len takes his arm and escorts him to the nearest Roulette table.

~

Cisco screams.

Caitlin screams.

The former lands in the pool at the bottom of the waterslide first, and Caitlin arrives closely behind him. Using the rest of Caitlin’s momentum, Cisco quickly jumps over to her, and with a sloppy splash, flips Caitlin out of her inner-tube.

Caitlin comes back up from her sudden submersion to see her hair blocking most of her vision and Cisco laughing like a hyena.

“You look like Cousin It.” He says, giggling.

“You’re the worst friend in the history of friendship. Not cool, Cisco,” She says, adjusting her hair so she can see again, but Cisco can see she isn’t _really_ pissed.

"Oh, I thought that was _very_ cool.” He splashes her, and she dodges.

Her expression changes, relaxing, and she moves her inner-tube out of Cisco’s reach. Her voice is quiet, “…can we ride it again?”

“You bet we can!” Cisco says joyously, and the pair is walking towards the back of the line. The night is still young, and the two of them—after deciding that their brains were fried and they needed a break—finally ventured outside of their cabin to experience the waterslide.

Harry hadn't been invited, not that he would have enjoyed it anyway. But Cisco immediately wishes he _had_ asked Harry _and_ his pulse rifle to ride the waterslide with him and Caitlin because at the back of the line, talking casually, are Hartley Rathaway and Mark Mardon.

“Oh hell _no_ ," Cisco says, moving to turn around.

Caitlin whacks him with her inner-tube.

“We are _not_ going to let their presence deter us.” She insists, shoving him forward. The two metas haven’t seen them yet, but at this rate, they will soon, and Cisco’s heart rate is skyrocketing. “This is our ship just as much as theirs.”

“I am _not_ about to go wait in line to go ride a waterslide with the Pied Piper and Weather Wizard!”

“Are you telling me you’re a… coward, Cisco?” Caitlin says.

_That_ gets his attention, “Fine.” Cisco growls, and reluctantly walks forward.

The walk to the back of the line, just _waiting_ for Hartley the asshole and Mark the tornado-maker to notice them feels like an eternity.

“Oh fancy seeing _you_ here, Francisco.” Hartley greets once Caitlin and Cisco come into view of the pair of villains.

“Don’t call me that.” Cisco snaps back.

Hartley laughs, “Fine, fine, I’ll back off _,_ but wager me this.”

“We aren’t wagering anything, Caitlin, we are _leaving.”_ Cisco gives up and grabs Caitlin’s arm before she can argue with him and drags her away from the two supervillains. Once they are out of earshot, he says, “Call me a coward but that _asshole_ is a total dick and I hate him.”

“Technically someone can’t be an asshole and a dick at the same time—”

"Caitlin, not now!" Cisco huffs in frustration drops his inner-tube in the stack by the base of the slide, and yanks Caitlin's out of her own hands to add it to the pile. He plops them both down at a wet bar, orders two raspberry mojitos—the bartender glares at them—and only when the drink is in his hand _,_ does he finally relax.

"Cisco, that was unnecessary," Caitlin says, eating her mint sprig after sufficiently poking the raspberry with its stem.

“You’re not freaked out because it wasn’t _Mick_ who was there.” Cisco justifies. “If Heatwave had been in that line you would have done what I did.”

Caitlin, instead of talking, sips her drink after stirring it in her glass.

"See, that's what I thought," Cisco confirms, taking a slurp of his own beverage.

“ _Heatwave_ wouldn’t ride a water slide.” She suggests, and the mention sparks a thought in Cisco’s brain.

“Ohhhh, can you imagine _Captain Cold_ on a waterslide?” Cisco says.

“It would be an _ice_ -slide by the time he got to the bottom.”

Cisco almost spits his drink. “Speaking of, I do wonder what good old Captain Cold and our own Scarlet Speedster are up to." He waggles his eyebrows, reminding Caitlin of the smirk emoji she’s far too familiar with in their vacation group chat.

“The casino has to be frozen by now.” Caitlin begins.

“And trashed,” Cisco adds.

“Cold probably stole all the money,”

“And Barry is chasing him,”

“He’s trying not to get shot for sure,”

“Ooooh ouch that would suck,”

“I have my frostbite kit with me!” Caitlin says. “Just in case.”

"Barry's definitely fighting him, though,"

“Aiming to throw him overboard, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Cisco finishes. The two of them clink their glasses together. This night could have gone much, _much_ worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus song! [Die in a Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AibtyCAhyQE) by The Living Tombstone for when Cisco saw Hartley by the waterslides. 
> 
> Also, Wynter is gonna go on a small tangent here because this was my favorite chapter to write so far, for the reasons I am about to state. 
> 
> So the part of this chapter where Barry "wins" at slots is based off a true story that happened many years ago. When I was really young, my family and I went on a cruise and my Dad gambled every night, because we were on vacation and he wasn't awful at it to begin with. He went in with 20 bucks with the rule that if he lost it, he was done for the night. He came back with around 32, and then 80 something the next night, and was up 100 by the fourth or fifth night. 
> 
> My uncle, on the other hand, thought my dad was full of shit. So he sent in my aunt to basically do recon which included hanging with my dad while he gambled that night. 
> 
> As you could probably predict, my dad went to slot machines and by sheer luck won the jackpot on the fourth or fifth try. And that jackpot was 286 dollars in quarters, and yes, they had to refill the machine, and yes he put them all in a popcorn bucket. My aunt also spilled her red wine all over her dress because she was so shocked, so the person who spilled theirs in this chapter is totally representative of my aunt. 
> 
> My uncle didn't question my dad for the rest of the trip, and it's now a legend in the family. Sadly, slot machines don't spit out quarters anymore, if you were wondering.
> 
> I also may or may not have called said aunt to ask her to recount that story for the sake of writing this chapter.
> 
> Anyways, Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it and if not happy holidays, and if you don't celebrate the holidays well happy winter, because you're stuck with winter... unless you're in another part of the world and then I can't do anything about it. 
> 
> Just have a good day, kay?


	9. Still Trying to Keep a Straight Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Casino Shenanigans with Len and Barry Part II. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Verge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYCURBSSyXw) by Owl City and [Whole World is Watching](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNJ9B9TWX0E) by Within Temptation.

Of course, back at the casino, Len and Barry are doing the exact reverse of what Cisco and Caitlin imagined.

They’re playing craps. To say the dice are hot is a massive understatement _._ The dice are _on fire,_ and the game is fast, loud, and _exciting._ Len hasn’t had this much fun in _years._ Not since his heist with Mick to steal the first _David_. And Barry, well, _Barry_ is smiling from ear to ear as Len stands next to him. The pair is situated on the right side of the craps table amidst a big group of people also playing the game with them, and half the casino has walked up to watch the whole thing unfold.

Len and Barry had ended up _killing_ it in Roulette—as Len had suspected—with Barry making sure the ball landed where Len wanted it to, and they had walked away with enough winnings that they had to go play blackjack again to lose a little so that they didn't raise too many red flags.

With Barry’s confidence through the roof and Len giddy as a kite on a breezy beach, it’s Barry turn to be the shooter. He jokingly holds the dice towards Len, who after meeting Barry’s joyous eyes, blows on them.

The following roll has the whole table rocking and rolling, and Len merely smirks at the Barry who is _bouncing_ next to him. The following roll, Barry does the same thing, and Len blows on the dice again.

It’s another win.

It’s on the third roll that Len—in lieu of blowing on the dice—kisses Barry’s hand. The whole crowd gives an “oooooooooooohhhhhh” noise, and Barry blushes out of embarrassment. He wishes he would roll a seven next so he can get out—dragging Len with him of course—just to throttle Snart the second they leave the casino. The looks everyone is giving them now are shaking Barry, and as much as Barry knows it was a joke—right?—he can’t help but get self-conscious. Sneaking glances at Len _and_ trying to play the game proves too difficult, and at the next roll, Barry thankfully sevens out, and Len takes the dice from him.

Barry’s half there the rest of the game, and while he gets a few more wins, he and Len soon leave.

“Scarlet, what’s bothering you?” Len asks later. They have drinks—Barry buys them this time, even though he's still using his portion of the winnings—and are walking back along the deck they were on the night before, fighting like cats and dogs.

“Why did you do that?” Barry turns to him, finishing the rest of his coke combination. Len has the same drink, but he hasn’t finished his yet.

“Do what? You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

"You kissed my hand," Barry tells him. " _Captain_ _Cold_ kissed my hand when we were playing _Craps.”_

“You won, didn’t you? So it worked.”

“ _We_ won, Len.” Barry corrects, “But that’s not the point.” He turns, and walks towards the balcony after setting his glass on one of the piles of decorative crates.

Len stares after him, waiting for the younger man to keep talking. When he doesn’t, Len walks up to stand next to him. He leaves a foot between them, to give the younger man space, but he’s still close. Barry flinches, just a little, but he does so when Len moves farther from him, rather than closer, so Len returns to his former position, nearer to the speedster, and stays there.

"Then what _'s_ the point?" Len asks, staring out over the lower decks of the ship. From where the two of them stand, they have a good view of the deck that contains the waterslide and a few other of the more popular amenities—such as a spa, the Jacuzzis that the two of them were in yesterday, a wet bar, the usual—and they cast a multicolored glow in the dark air above them.

So when Barry turns his back on Len and walks away, Len sees the light hit the back of his suit, and can’t help but be triggered to think of that _awe_ he saw on Barry’s face when they first entered the casino, when the younger man was so overwhelmed with all the lights and sounds that he couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping. Len realizes then, that he _can’t_ let Barry walk away. Not now.

So what the _hell_ is he thinking when he grabs Barry’s arm, turns him around and… what?

“…Len?” Barry says, and he’s staring at him.

Len’s hand abruptly lets go of Barry’s suit jacket, and he takes a step back. He glances around for _anything_ to go off of, and luckily he sees Barry's glass. He picks it up and holds it out to the speedster.

"You forgot your glass," Len tells him, "wouldn't be very _hero-like_ if you left it up here for someone else to clean up.”

Barry takes it, and looks back at Len, his face a mix of emotions that Len wish he could identify and diagnose. If only people were as easy to case as museums.

“Thanks,” Barry nods to him and starts walking again.

And then, Len catches himself asking what the _hell_ is he thinking this time when he just blurts out "I'm sorry," before Barry can make it to the stairwell.

Barry turns around, and this time the emotion on his face is very, _very_ clear.

“…what?” Barry has to hear it again.

“I’m sorry, for… making you uncomfortable earlier.” Len apologizes. “I…didn’t mean anything by it. I…could make it up to you.”

“How?”

Barry’s interested, oh _yes,_ he’s interested.

Then again, Len didn’t think he would make it this far, and _since when does Captain Cold try to make amends for anything?_

“…I won’t steal anything from the Jewelry store on the ship?” Len offers, not knowing what else to say.

Barry walks back up to him only for the purpose of lightly punching him in the shoulder. Len lets him.

“You think I’m not serious," Len says, leaning back on the balcony.

“No, I’m taking you seriously, but you don’t want the authorities called, so _I_ don’t think you’d risk it.” Barry takes a step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Ah, so you think I’m _bluffing.”_ Len gives Barry a once over, and then levels his gaze.

“That might be the better word, yes.” Barry smiles, and he thinks about moving forward again, but stares a little bit too long at Len than he should have, distracted by the rainbow glow the man has about him now and how it makes the older man look silhouetted against an artificial neon sunset. It’s downright _mesmerizing._ Not to mention that whatever Len is wearing is getting to Barry again, because if anything, Len still had the right amoun _t_ of whatever cologne he had been wearing the previous day.

“Well how about this, I’ll buy you another drink instead. Another… Barry Allen special?”

"Oh god, I don't need another drink named after me." Barry facepalms, thankfully able to look away from Len and his Technicolor halo.

“Fine, then, we could call it the opposite Barry Allen? The opposite Flash? The _reverse_ Flash…?”

“That’s actually worse.” Barry laughs, but it’s not from joy. Len wants the other laugh back, immediately.

“Well here, I’ll buy you a drink, and you call it whatever the hell you want, and we can go from there?” Len asks carefully, phrasing it like a question.

The younger man’s eyes lock with Len’s, and for a moment, Len thinks he’s going to bolt, thinking Len is bluffing again—and he wasn’t planning on robbing the ship, but he would if it meant proving Barry wrong—but Barry’s face relaxes, and he nods at the other man.

“Sure.”

Len lets out a sigh of relief along with a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and pushes off from the balcony, past Barry and his far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good suit.

~

“—and _that’s_ why you didn’t like it when I called your drink a reverse flash.” Len reasons, the light bulb going off in his head.

“Exactly! Ding ding ding!” Barry says. “But Dr. W—Eobard is the whole reason I could even come on this boat, and as much as I’d like to think we all could have scrapped together the money, honestly I’m not sure we’d be able to afford a ship like the _Fate of the Seas_ otherwise.”

“Well, I _did_ steal a Pollock to get here.”

Barry tries to glare but just ends up smiling. He’s not drunk and neither is Snart—“you can’t get drunk on Coke, Barry, but damn are you _trying”—_ and the two have been wandering the outdoor decks of the ship for the last few hours.

"Then we both did ridiculous things to get where we are today, then." Barry holds up his glass, and Len his own clinks against Barry's.

“ _You_ stopped a time-travelling sociopath—”

“—technically it was _Cisco_ who figured out how to erase Eobard from existence without extreme measures—”

“—you had Detective Thawne get a _vasectomy,_ that's still somewhat extreme," Len concludes.

“True.” Barry gives that one to him. “That was one of the tensest half hours I‘ve ever experienced in S.T.A.R. Labs, though."

“Did you make him watch?” Len asks.

“Who, Eobard?”

Len nods.

“Now that you say so, I _wish_ I had," Barry tells him.

“Well, you _can_ go back in time, if I recall correctly.” Len reminds him, stopping to sit down on a bench that overlooks the sea. Barry sits down next to him a second later. The moon is high in the sky, and Barry and Len are immersed in the lights that were outlining them both earlier having moved down several decks. “So the option isn’t entirely gone.”

“If time travel worked that way I would have gone back and done a lot of things,” Barry thinks back to the lonely introductory guide to chronocorrective programming sitting on his desk back in S.T.A.R. Labs, and a somber expression falls over his face. Then Len is waving a hand in front of his eyes, and Barry is coming back to the present.

“Earth to Barry, you okay, kid?” Len asks.

“Yeah, fine.” Barry shakes his head, trying to get rid of any remaining thoughts of Eobard Thawne _or_ his influence on Barry’s life, and turns to Len. “I think I need another coke.”

“The bars are closed now,” Len informs him. “It’s just past 2 AM.”

“ _It’s what?”_ Barry jumps up. “How did it get to be so late?”

“You just told me your life story, Barry, it was bound to get long.”

“Good _god,_ Iris must be worried sick.”

“Miss West doesn’t know where you are?” Len sounds surprised and Barry pulls out his phone.

“No no, she does, but she hasn’t been updated in a while, and we made this rule and—”

“—Scarlet, it’s okay.” Len puts his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “I’m the villain, remember? I’m supposed to be a bad influence on you.”

"Well, this _is_ your fault," Barry says, placing his phone in his lap so that he can wrap his own hands around Len’s forearms. The older man’s eyes glance at Barry’s hands so close to his, but if he wants to say anything about it, he doesn’t indulge.

“My charming wits and winning personality are _not_ to blame for you being out so late, Barry _Allen,"_ Len replies.

“But you _did_ invite me to go play dumb casino games with you.”

“Yeah, and then we each got to pocket half a grand by the end of the night.” Len says, “You should be _thanking_ me.”

“We _did_ make quite the team," Barry smirks, hands tightening around Len’s wrists.

“You won’t be saying that when I steal the Mask of Fate from under your nose.” Len squeezes Barry’s shoulders.

“We will just have to see who’s faster, then, won’t we?”

“Guess we will.”

Len laughs, and Barry joins in. "You know, you aren't a bad person," Barry tells him cautiously, and inches closer, just a little. It’s imperceptible, really. “Like—”

"—Barry, I swear if you tell me one more time there's good in me I will find a way to throw you off this ship myself," Len warns. "I already made that threat to Hartley; it would be a shame if I had to make it to you too.”

“Just, don’t close yourself off too much, okay?” Barry lets his hands drop from Len’s arms, and with a quick glance out to sea, he takes a breath and stands up, brushing Len’s hands off of him. Trying not to think about how cold his shoulders are without Len’s touch, or how much Barry doesn’t want to leave, Barry decides just has to suck it up and head back.

“I should get going,” Barry finally says. Len rises.

“Me too. Lisa might be worried,” The other man says, buttoning his suit, “Have a good night, Scarlet.”

Barry nods, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“One more thing, Len?” Barry says it like a request.

“Yes?”

“I had fun tonight. Like, we should do this again.” Barry turns around quick. He can’t look at the other man in fear of what he might see because Barry is expecting horror or some other terrible emotion to be covering Len’s face.

He definitely doesn’t expect to hear, “Yes, I’d like that. You aren’t so bad yourself, kid.”

Barry starts walking away, a smile on his face that no one but him knows is there.

Len, on the other hand, expects to feel the wind and a flash of fading yellow lightning—it _is_ what he’s used to—but for once in his life, he gets to watch Barry _walk_ away from him; and as he stares after Barry and his far-too-lithe-to-be-real figure, Len realizes he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like seeing Barry Allen walk away from him _one_ bit.

Leonard Snart is a man of planning. He is a man so obsessed with organization that he has to work out every detail before any possible outcome can come to fruition. But only a man possessing a ridiculous amount of base-level recklessness would have the audacity to steal a Pollock or go up against a speedster superhero.

It’s that same recklessness that haunts Len now, and it this recklessness that threatens to haunt him in the future if he doesn’t _act right this minute._

Barry turns around on Len’s approach, and briefly, the older man wonders if Barry heard him coming, or if he too was thinking similar to how Len is now. But he chooses not to do much thinking, because if he started now it would get dangerous fast.

So instead he acts, putting one hand on Barry’s jaw and the other on the back of Barry’s neck. In one smooth motion, Len kisses him before the speedster can argue and _Barry kisses him back_. The younger man’s hands grab Len’s suit lapels to pull him closer, and Barry actually dares to deepen the kiss. Len responds, moving the hand at the back of the speedster’s neck to wrap around his waist, and the younger man lets himself be tugged flush against Len’s _everything._ Hardly being able to breathe and trying not to make any sudden movements, Barry slowly relaxes. It’s slight enough that Len knows he didn’t freak out the kid _too_ much, and for the moment, that’s all that matters.

Barry maneuvers them back across the deck, and Len's back hits one of those stacks of dumb decorative crates before he realizes where they've gone. He's pressed back into the artificial wood, but he's not protesting, especially when _Barry Allen_ is the one shoving him there and kissing him like he’s dying and Len is his only hope for survival. If Len had known all those months ago, that this was what he could have been in for if he had just asked the kid out on a date instead of shooting him with his cold gun, then he never would have worked so hard to be the kid’s enemy in the first place. It’s crazy to think it took being stuck on a _fucking cruise liner_ sailing across the middle of the ocean for Len to realize it.

It is a damn shame, though, that Len is going to have to oppose him so soon. Barry Allen is pretty, yes, but he's not _that_ pretty.

But when they finally part, Len is the one left panting, not Barry. Stealing art hasn’t _ever_ done _that_ to Len, and since when is he comparing the feeling of kissing Barry Allen to pulling off heists? It’s dangerous thinking, and Len has to stop it immediately.

He shoves himself out of the speedster’s arms and starts heading for the door that leads to the stairs. Len needs to get home, stat. Nothing good happens after 2 AM. He should have just gone to sleep.

He faintly hears the sound Barry makes when he takes off running, but no flashes of yellow light assault Len's vision and Barry doesn't magically appear in a place he wasn't in before. Len tries not to think too much about it, or how much he _wishes_ Barry had taken off running after _him,_ but there’s no time for that. If he’s walking away, he’s walking away. End of story. No arguments. No second thoughts. Nada.

But somehow Len still finds himself glancing one last time over his shoulder, just in case, and as he suspects, the other man is already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some might say there's... trouble in paradise.
> 
> Don't worry, already showing myself to the door. See you guys next week! 
> 
> OH AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! If 2016 sucked, I hope 2017 is better. If 2016 was great, may 2017 be greater <3


	10. All Your Wrongs and Your Rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Handclap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2V6yjjPbX0) by Fitz and the Tantrums. For shenanigans this chapter, imagine [Eye of the Tiger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btPJPFnesV4) by Survivor. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the lovely comments and kudos last chapter! It's flooring to know y'all keep coming back each week for more of Team Flash's and the Rogues' cruise ship adventures. Y'all are the best. Stay frosty!

Barry collapses onto his bed after phasing through the door. He needs to sleep and forget what just happened, but what on _earth_ was he thinking?

Len _had_ kissed him first, but he had kissed back, and then he ended up shoving the man against those damned crates and just kissing the daylights out of him, because _why the hell not?_

Barry can argue as much as he wanted about how he and Len may have eased themselves into it; how it happened after they spent hours talking about their problems and stories of being wronged, how Len was wearing that suit that just looked too _good_ on him, but the bottom line is that Barry made out with Captain Cold and he _liked_ it.

And he really, _really_ wants to do it again.

~

“Oh my god you have _got_ to be kidding me," Cisco says. "This is not happening right now."

“The probabilities _are_ slim," Caitlin adds as if it helps.

“We should still ride it anyway, I haven’t even tried it yet.” Barry insists.

“Fine.” Cisco relents, walking forward. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

It’s day three on _Fate of the Seas_ and Cisco and Caitlin have unfinished business. Team Flash had slept in until nearly noon and had wandered to the waterslides shortly after waking up. Mark Mardon and Hartley Rathaway are once again in the line for the waterslides, smirking as the three walk up to get in line with them.

“Fancy seeing you here, Francisco.” Hartley greets. Cisco doesn’t appreciate the reference to the day before.

“Shut _up,_ Hartley," Cisco says.

“Well, _hello_ to you too," Hartley adds sweetly, waving his hand in sardonic fashion.

Cisco groans.

"Someone else talk, the Pied Piper is getting on my nerves," Cisco mutters as he moves to stand behind Barry, and while the scientist isn’t using the speedster as a shield, he’s not objecting to having Barry’s body between himself and Hartley. At least then Cisco would have _some_ delay if he decided to punch the idiot genius in the face. How someone can be so intelligent yet so annoying is beyond Cisco.

Eddie and Iris had joined up with Wally and Jesse—much to Harry’s objections—to hit the _other_ spa on the ship to test the masseuses there. For science. Who knew what Harry was up to, but knowing him, he’s probably at a bar somewhere conspiring with the bartender on the best way to murder Wally West in his sleep.

Just then, Shawna pops up right behind Cisco—not even needing to use her powers to frighten him—and the man shrieks, crowding against Barry for protection. Barry glares at the smiling Shawna.

“ _Not_ cool!” Cisco says, peeking over Barry’s shoulder.

“And here I thought _Flash_ was high profile. Turning out to be a CSI? Boring.” Shawna glances at her nails—they’re painted a hot pink—and then back to Barry, who’s still glaring full force at her. She tries to cut in line to meet up with Mark and Hartley, an inner-tube in her hand, but Barry isn’t having that.

“Not so fast,” Barry says without thinking.

Mark chuckles. “That’s rich, coming from _you.”_

“Oh shut _up.”_ Barry finds himself echoing Cisco from earlier.

“Well how about we settle this like _gentlemen,"_ Mark says.

“And what might _that_ entail?” Caitlin pipes up. Shawna actually agrees with her, and nods.

"Waterslide races," Mark suggests. "Us against," He points in Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin's direction, " _you_ all.”

“And what makes you think we would agree to _that?”_ Barry counters.

“We’ll buy you drinks?” Mark suggests.

“Nice try, _I_ can't get drunk," Barry says.

“Oh, that's a damn shame," Hartley says under his breath, but Team Flash can hear him nonetheless.

“Then we’ll buy you dinner. Something nicer than the prepaid food we would all be eating tonight," Mark's arms cross and he stares Barry down, not leaving the subject. Mark _will_ race these people.

“Oh now _that_ I can get behind," Barry says. Mark's arms drop, triumphant.

“Dinner at the place by the casino?” Cisco phrases it like a question, peering around Barry’s shoulder.

“Fine by us, you’ll be buying after all.” Hartley glances at him, speaking for his group, and Cisco hides the urge not to flinch under the other man’s gaze.

"I call Hartley," Cisco says through gritted teeth.

"I'll take Caitlin then," Mark calls before she can object.

“Guess that leaves me with _Flash_ here.” Shawna gives Barry a once over, and he glares at the second name drop.

“It’s _Barry,_ and you’re on.” He agrees.

The waterslides consist of two twin tubes that start on deck sixteen and travel downward in loops around the sides of the ship. Some areas are covered and others are completely transparent—occasionally with only the sea itself below them—and passengers endure large amounts of neon lighting in short segments at the beginning, middle, and end of the waterslide’s route. The attraction comes to a stop on deck fifteen.

Hartley and Cisco go first, and Cisco pushes ahead immediately, attempting to set his inner tube down before the other man can get to his side of the slide. A second later, Hartley is sitting down too, but Cisco had beat him in preparations already. The lifeguard lists off a set of instructions: ‘do not climb out of the inner tube’, ‘do not push other people out of theirs’, ‘do not touch the sides of the slide’, ‘keep hands and feet inside the inner tube at all times’, ‘please hold onto the handles' the usual. The rules fall on deaf ears

“—are you two racing?” The lifeguard asks.

Cisco comes back to the present, nodding quickly before Hartley can answer. To Cisco’s surprise, Hartley mirrors him purposefully, his head bobbing up and down as well. The lifeguard laughs at their seriousness concerning the matter and grabs a small racing flag he keeps by the slides. The flag has the _Fate of the Seas_ logo on it amidst a traditional checkerboard pattern.

"Alright, on your mark—" The lifeguard says. Cisco leans back, aiming for efficiency, “—get set—” Hartley shifts to create the most aerodynamic position, “GO!”

Neither man has a chance to get a head start since the lifeguard has to let them both go at the same kind through pressing a level that lowers twin gates that would otherwise hold the two riders back. So when the mechanism is activated and the gates disappear, Hartley and Cisco fly forward. Cisco yells incoherently as he is surprised by the sudden burst of speed, and leans back to better redistribute his wait on his vehicle. He sneaks a glance at Hartley who is still as a statue and leaning back as far as possible.

He looks uncomfortable, and a little funny. Cisco laughs, but when he sees that Hartley _is_ getting ahead of him… well, he just has to do something about that.

“See you at the bottom, Cisco!” Hartley shouts.

“In your dreams, Rathaway!” Cisco yells back.

“Is that an invitation?”

And with that, Cisco’s had enough. With newfound anger and a surge of strength, Cisco places his hands on either side of the slide and mechanically pushes himself forward. Within seconds, he’s moved closer to Hartley, but he’s too late, splashing down only a fraction of a second later than the other man.

“Huh, looks like you’re the one at the bottom, Hartley," Cisco smirks, climbing out of the pool.

“Rematch! I call a rematch.”

"You'd just lose again," Cisco says.

“Maybe later, then.” Hartley winks and waits for the others. Cisco stands with him, crossing his arms and refusing to say anything else that the other would undoubtedly turn into an innuendo.

Unfortunately, Cisco can’t keep his mouth shut very long, and apparently neither can Hartley.

“Hey, Cisco, are drinks included in the dinner you’ll be buying me?”

“You mean the one you’ll be buying me?” Cisco retorts, turning to face the other man as he holds his inner tube in front of him like a shield.

Hartley laughs dismissively, and steps closer, moving his inner tube out to the side while shoving Cisco’s away, further closing the distance between them.

Cisco gulps. Just a little bit. Hartley appreciates Cisco's seemingly endless ability to be so easily intimidated. As such, Hartley is going to say one more snippy remark but hears a sudden _rush_ coming from the direction of the waterslides. He and Cisco both turn simultaneously.

Mark Mardon shoots out of the slide and into the waiting pool below. He’s followed by a small tidal wave that hits him unceremoniously in the back. Caitlin takes five more seconds, because Mark apparently had quite the lead, and she lands with a _plop!_ in the water.

“You used your powers!” Caitlin shouts, pointing her finger at him, “I saw that, Mister!”

Mark snickers and his grin is sheepish. Caitlin throws her inner tube at him. He deflects, and it comes back to rest in the water in front of her.

“I’m gonna tell Len.” She says.

“Cisco you saw it, too, right?” Caitlin turns to him, emphatically gesturing with her hands, inner tubes forgotten. “We were halfway down the slide, in the portion where second groups of neon lights are flashing, and next thing I know he’s ten feet ahead of me riding in front of his own personal wave! That is _not_ part of the attraction!”

“In that case, he _did_ cheat.” Cisco accuses.

“We never said there were rules.” Hartley deliberately bumps into him, walking past to join Mark. He crosses his arms, and Mark does the same.

"Well, your _leader_ mentioned them. How you all can’t use your powers on the ship.” Cisco too crosses his arms and stares petulantly at the weather manipulator. When he realizes he accidentally mirrored the two Rogues, he shoves his arms down to his sides, “When Barry gets down here we will _personally_ make sure that Captain Cold learns of this.”

Mark looks a little worried, but it only lasts a second. Cisco and Caitlin, now standing next to one another, oppose the Rogues.

As a group, they wait for Barry and Shawna to hit the pool next.

~

"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," Shawna tells the speedster, adjusting herself in her inner tube.

"Oh I'm thinking alright," Barry tells her mischievously.

After spending the night before using his powers in the casino with Len, _and_ dealing with the emotional ramifications from kissing and _being_ kissed by a criminal, Barry has no qualms about using his speed to beat Shawna to the bottom of a waterslide. The trick is using it when the cruise passengers can’t see him do it.

Unfortunately, Shawna has other thoughts.

They both take off, and after the first turn, they’re plunged into total darkness. Barry takes his hands, and like Cisco had done earlier, using his speed, uses the friction created to propel himself forward. If anyone is to look down the slide, they would see a slight yellow glow, but other than that, Barry is well hidden.

Shawna, on the other hand, teleports forward multiple times to catch up to Barry. They meet eyes, equal at this point, and Barry speeds forward as Shawna blips away, again. The whole race between the two of them lasts ten seconds.

“And Baez wins!” Hartley exclaims when they both splash down.

“Oh no, I absolutely killed that!” Barry argues, walking out of the water, his inner tube in tow.

"The Flash himself versus Peek-a-boo," Mark speaks up. "Sounds like you both didn't enjoy the slide."

“I played to win, _Mark.”_ Shawna’s tone is biting, “And I _did_ win.”

“Barry _clearly_ landed first.” Cisco pipes up. “He is the leader in _speed_ after all.”

Caitlin nods furiously next to him, and Shawna opens up her mouth to argue again.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Hartley gestures to the two of them, “it looks like Team Flash has to buy the Rogues dinner unless you'd like to settle this dispute… in other ways. Three metahumans against one and a half," Hartley glances at Cisco, "seems a little… not in your favor.”

Caitlin, Cisco, and Barry exchange worried glances.

“Ooooh who is buying _who_ dinner now?” Lisa coos from behind Cisco, who yelps and jumps away from her. He hurriedly points at Caitlin, who refuses to speak and shrugs.

“Apparently Cisco, Caitlin, and I,” Barry says, “Are buying _those_ three dinner in the restaurant by the casino.”

"And I can't tag along?" Lisa asks.

“You _can,”_ Barry tells her, “But you’ll be paying for your own food.”

“I’ll be tagging along as well.” Len drawls from behind _Barry_ now, and Barry does his best not to yelp in a similar manner to Cisco. Barry is still not over Len's actions from the night before, and they are _absolutely_ going to talk about it.

"Well, why don't we just invite _everyone_ then?” Cisco shouts, being sarcastic, but everyone else doesn’t take it that way.

“Sounds good to me!” Lisa jumps, clapping her hands together, “I’ll go get the others!”

She runs off before Cisco can tell her otherwise, and he ends up sighing instead.

“I’ll tell Iris and Eddie.” He says quietly, voice defeated.

“Tell Iris and Eddie what?” Harry appears behind Cisco, _out of the goddamn blue,_ and Cisco jumps and yelps _again._

“Okay, everyone stop sneaking up on me!” Cisco storms off, bringing his phone up to his ear, no doubt calling Iris as he gets the hell out of there.

Jesse and Wally are tagging along behind Harry, holding hands behind the older man. Len snorts from next to Barry—because he's there now—and Lisa returns, Sam, Roy, and Mick in tow. Cisco isn’t far behind her, with Iris and Eddie trailing behind him.

"I'm serious," Harry says, still clueless, "What’s going on?”

“Team Flash is going to dinner with the Rogues.” Barry explains, since no one else will, "at the nice place by the casino."

Harry crosses his arms and stares Barry down. “And why is that?”

“Because,” Barry says guiltily, “We lost a bet.”

“Goddamnit, Allen.” Harry exclaims, turning on his heel and walking off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Flash really should not make bets. 
> 
> Stay tuned! See y'all next week.


	11. You've Been Sinning in This City, I Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Looking Too Closely](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwS0FAjVDh0) by Fink and [Handclap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2V6yjjPbX0) by Fitz and the Tantrums because that song is good enough to name two chapters after it.

Iris grabs Barry's arm as they're walking back to their suite, and pulls him off to the side. He's hanging at the back of the group, so it doesn't draw too much attention.

“Okay, spill. What happened last night? You came home super late, and something tells me you weren’t hanging around the ship alone." She punches Barry's arm, and his blush is immediate. It's followed by a brief hint of… anger? Iris grows serious, and her tone becomes less joyful. "Barry, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He lies, scratching the back of his neck.

Iris isn't fooled.

"Oh no, nice try, Barr." She stands in front of him so he's forced to look at her. "Start talking."

They have a brief staring contest, and Barry loses.

"Fine," he says. "What do you want to know?"

“Start with the casino. Did you kick his ass?” Iris says.

“We actually ended up kicking the house’s ass.” He looks at her sheepishly.

“You _what?”_ She exclaims. “Together?”

“No, not _together_ together, but yes, together.” Barry smiles. It’s brief, but Iris sees it. “He taught me how to play Roulette, and then we killed it in Craps, and we did that dumb thing where he blew on the dice, and it _worked._ And I may have used my powers to win the jackpot in slots before all of that…" The smug grin is back, and Iris knows she's getting somewhere.

“You guys are cute.” She baits.

“What? No!” Barry’s flustered now, taking a step back. “We were just hanging out, as friends.”

“Ah, so you’re friends now?”

“Iris!”

“That’s not an answer.”

“ _Iris.”_

“I know my own name, Barry.”

“He kissed my hand when we were playing Craps.”

_Ah, there we go,_ she thinks. “He did _what?”_

"Instead of blowing on my hand, he kissed it," Barry tells her. "And, it freaked me out a little. You can't tell _anyone._ ”

“Not even Eddie?”

“Well, Eddie is fine,” Barry corrects, “But he can’t tell anyone either.”

"That's fair." She leans against the wall outside their suite, and Barry does the same. He's still in his flash-logo board shorts, and it's an interesting image since Iris is in her normal clothes.

“There’s more.” He says.

Jackpot.

“Go on.” She invites, gesturing her hand forward.

"He ended up buying me a drink—just Coke and grenadine with lemon and lime, my usual—and then we walked around outside for a while, and I told him about Eobard and my mom, and some other stuff, because he mentioned something that triggered me to think about it, and honestly I'm not sure _why_ I told him all that, but he listened to me, and then we talked some more, and we sat down on this bench, but then I had to go, because it was so late, and then he grabbed my arm when I was leaving and he _kissed_ me."

"You _kissed_ Captain Cold?” Iris interrupts. This is _way_ better than she'd expected.

"He technically kissed me first!" Barry's blush extends down to his chest.

“But you _did_ kiss him back.”

Barry nods and the blush’s intensity increases. This is too good. _Eddie is going to have a cow when he hears about this,_ Iris thinks, holding back a chuckle of triumph.

“Barry _Allen,_ kissing his villains.” She smirks, “And I thought I was dangerous for getting engaged to a cop. You just like playing with fire, or rather, playing with _ice.”_

_“_ Oh god, you do _not_ get to start cold punning around me." Barry says, "He already does that enough."

"How long have you two been together?"

"We aren't together! I was just referring to the cold puns he throws during our fights!" Barry counters. Why did he even start talking?

"Ah, now I see why you let him get away when you first met him in the Central City museum. Barry Allen has a crush!" she singsongs.

_Okay, now she’s just being ridiculous,_ Barry cringes, “Iris, I don’t have _feelings_ for Leonard Snart.”

“But you kissed him!”

“He was a good kisser!”

“Relationships start somewhere.” She winks.

"Okay, stop it." Barry's a little irritated now, and Iris takes note, trying to back off, but the damage is already done. " _Len_ and I managed to stay calm for one night, and maybe I hung out with him a bit too much and got carried away, but I didn't tell you that he _left_ after we kissed. He just walked off. And it sucked _,_ Iris, okay? Like it majorly _sucked._ ” Barry is breathing heavily, and Iris wouldn’t say there are tears in his eyes, but he is unequivocally distraught. Iris figures she finally pushed him too far, and she has to make up for it, somehow.

She starts by stepping forward, and pulling him into an embrace, wrapping her arms around his slender form and hugging him tightly to herself. Barry reciprocates—not immediately, but does nonetheless—and lets Iris hold him. Frankly, for Barry, it's nice.

"You really can't tell Eddie the last part, though, please," Barry says quietly after a long moment. "Just keep that between us. I don't need him to know everything about me."

"He wouldn't do anything with it, and he wouldn't judge you, Barr," She can tell Barry is about to argue, so she talks a little quicker. "—but I'm not going to tell him. I'll keep it between us," she reassures, " I promise."

Barry smiles and squeezes her a little tighter. "Thanks."

“Always.” She says back to him, and just then, none other than _Eddie Thawne_ walks up. Barry just has _great_ luck.

"Iris, hey—oh hey, Barr," Eddie says, taking in the two hugging friends, and not looking… pleased in the slightest. Iris lets go of Barry quickly, and he takes the hint and walks out of her arms, leaning back against the wall once more. It didn't help that he was still only standing in his flash-logo covered board shorts.

"Hey, Eddie." Barry deadpans, and pushes off from the wall, thinking better of sticking around. "I'll just be going." He gives Iris a last glance of thanks, and heads back into the suite, praying she would keep his secrets.

She does.

~

Len feels like shit.

He’s about to change into his suit—the one he wore the night before—and it’s the same suit that he kissed _Barry_ _Allen_ in. The same suit that he is about to put on _again_ because he’s going to have dinner with the entirety of Team fucking Flash because his idiot Rogues made a bet and lost, and then _Lisa_ roped the rest of them into this because she's Lisa fucking _Snart_ after all and—

Maybe Lisa could help him with Barry.

Before he can think better of it, or talk himself out of it, he shouts. “Lisa, get in here!”

She runs in a few seconds later, and Len is standing to wait behind the open door. He shuts it dramatically behind her and locks it. She's a little confused, but it's not the craziest thing her brother has done.

"And what can I do for you?" Lisa asks, crossing her arms. Len sits down on the bed and lets a sigh escape him.

“It’s about Barry.”

“The Flash?”

“Yes, the Flash.” He confirms.

“What about… _Barry?”_ Lisa continues. “Do I need to shoot him?”

"Not exactly." Len takes a breath. "I kissed him, and he kissed me back."

“He _what?!”_ She nearly shouts, and Len jumps up from the bed and motions her to be quieter.

“If you don’t shut the hell up I won’t tell you anything else!” he hisses, and she complies.

“You kissed Barry.” She says voice significantly quieter. Len minutely relaxes. “And how is this a problem?”

“ _That’s_ not the problem." Could this be any harder? "The problem is what happened after." Len pauses again, takes a few deep breaths, and tries to speak. Nothing comes out.

"Just spit it out, Lenny." She orders. It does the trick.

"I ran away," Len says. "And I feel _bad_ about it.”

Lisa looks at him—a little incredulous, she will admit—and then walks over to sit down next to her brother. She thinks she may try and hug him, but Lenny doesn't accept hugs or affection often, which is another reason why it's so astonishing that he kissed Barry… but it's not so astonishing that he ran away.

This is quite the pickle, oh yes, and Lisa is all too happy to assist.

"Well, do you like him?" She begins.

“Yes, and that’s another problem.”

“Then why did you run?”

“Because of the Mask of _Fate,_ Lisa." He says as if it is obvious. To him, it might be, but to her, not so much. She knows her brother's first love was stealing, as hers was all that glitters, but she had always hoped that stealing wouldn't be his _only_ love.

“There are more important things than heists, Lenny.”

“But we are on this ship to _steal,_ not fall in love.”

“You think you could fall in love in a _week?”_ She exclaims.

“People have fallen in love in shorter time frames.”

“Yeah, like you with that diamond in the Central City Museum, I know.” She winks, adding a little levity.

“I’m not saying I’m in _love_ with Barry, but he’s not a bad person.” He tells her.

“ _You’re_ not a bad person either.”

He doesn't believe her, but he still nods. She gets it, knows he doesn't take her words as seriously as she wishes, but she doesn't call him on it. It's not necessary. He needs to _hear_ it right now.

“Lenny, if you really feel something for this guy—and it seems that you do—it’s just a week, after all.”

“He _can’t_ endanger the mission.”

“Barry and his little Flash friends have already endangered the mission.” She explains, and then holds out her forearm, still bandaged and a little swollen. “I got _shot_ our first night here! And speaking of, I need more ibuprofen." She takes a mental note to access later and continues. "Kissing him again wouldn't do _too_ much harm, and frankly, you look like you could use a little _fun_ in your life.”

"I have fun in my life!" Len defends, "And for the record, Barry and I did have fun last night at the casino." He tells her. "I taught him to play Roulette, and I think he likes playing Craps now, at least with me."

“See? Start there.”

Len can't believe he actually wants to pursue this.

“But what do I _tell_ him? ‘Sorry I ran away from you, I was just worried that you would distract me from my mission of committing an international heist to steal the thing that you're also trying to steal.'"

Lisa smiles and wraps her arm around his shoulder. "Yes, you _apologize.”_

“Lisa, I fucking _hate_ apologizing.”

“I know, which is why you’re gonna do it!” Lisa pokes him in the shoulder closest to her with her free arm and he doesn’t flinch in the slightest.

“Lisa…”

“Lenny…” She mocks.

He glares and shuts his mouth.

"Go get Shawna." She orders. "She can teleport you to him."

"Oh, _Shawna,_ she and I need to have a _conversation.”_ Len’s face scrunches up, and Lisa realizes he’s about to get into his Captain Cold persona again.

“Lenny, no angry villain-to-villain talk.”

“She _used_ her powers and that’s what got us into this dinner mess.”

“You’ll have fun at dinner and you _know_ it," Lisa tells him, poking Len's shoulder again. "You should be _thanking_ her that you get an excuse to be in a room with Barry again.”

“I’d rather it be _just_ Barry.”

“Then apologize and make it happen." And they're back to square one.

“Fine, _after_ dinner then.”

"There's my smart brother." Lisa claps Len on his back in sarcastic congratulations and stands up abruptly to unlock the door to leave.

“But Lisa—”

"Sounds like you got this figured out." She winks, and walks out, closing the door behind her before Len can finish his sentence.

_Well shit._ Len thinks.

He gets up, and moves to the door, peeking his head out.

“Baez!” He yells. “We need to talk!”

~

Barry is walking back into his room and changing into his suit when he realizes he’s thinking too much about all of this. Does he have a crush on Len? Maybe. Is it a bad thing if he does? Most certainly. Does Barry care? Most definitely. But none of that changes the fact that Barry irrevocably found Len’s company very entertaining, the kiss aside.

So now all he needs to do is figure out how to survive this dinner without giving away that there’s anything going on between them, and even admitting to himself that there _is_ something happening between the _Flash_ and _Captain Cold_ is a little nauseating as much as it's exciting.

It’s bad enough Iris knows, and Eddie is _going_ to know, and it’s only a matter of time before Cisco and Caitlin find out because they know Barry so well, and won’t his brain just shut _up_ already? He has four more full days on this ship, in the middle of the sea, before he has to get his shit together and steal the Mask of Fate for the sake of Cisco’s sanity, and Len can’t get in the way of that. So whether or not Barry chooses to encourage Len to continue from where they left off, Barry’s fucked, and he isn’t sure how he feels about that.

He shuts the door, and just falls back onto his bed, hands over his face and trying not to scream. He stares over at the suit hanging in his closet, and he knows he still has to go to dinner tonight. He then thinks of his _other_ suit—the tripolymer one—and decides he has to figure out how to shove down his carnal desires and sudden need for intimacy with his nemesis. He needs that mask. He _needs_ it. Cisco would never forgive him, sure, but more importantly, Barry wouldn’t forgive _himself._

At least Len had made it easy by running away after their kiss, because if Len’s not interested, then Barry has _nothing_ to worry about. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry, you have much to worry about, but don't stress out too much ;)
> 
> Next up, dinner shenanigans!


	12. Set Fire to the Rain, Not the Plates, Aww Fuck, there Goes the Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter doesn't have songs. Just flickering flames and anger. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Of course, when Barry enters the restaurant, he’s late.

The rest of Team Flash is behind him and as Barry walks forward, he meets Len’s eyes. Len's brows furrow in response—out of hesitation or surprise, Barry doesn’t know—and the two of them silently opt to sit as far away from each other as possible at the large round table where the groups are seated. It's a poor effort by Len and Barry to stay in their respective comfort zones. Unfortunately, while Len and Barry may be as physically far apart from one another as possible, this also means that they're both directly in the line of sight of the other.

Once they’re all settled, Team Flash sits opposite to the Rogues at the large, round, oak table that Cisco had reserved for them hardly a few hours before. It's draped in a rough linen tablecloth that when combined with the anchor-themed place settings and general nautical décor, creates a casual atmosphere unlike that of the other restaurants on the ship. The two groups keep to themselves until the servers arrive with small salads for all parties.

“I could prepare this so much better," Mick mutters under his breath. He stares down at the leafy greens nestled on the small plate in front of him and is reminded of how much he _hates_ organic food.

“Mick, don’t kid yourself. You can’t cook anything that isn’t on _fire_ at some point in the preparation process _.”_ Len says from next to the other man, who turns to glower in response.

“ _Everything_ tastes better once it’s been on fire, Snart.”

“Not an appetizer salad," Len argues back as he meets the other’s scowl firmly.

“It does if it calls for seared salmon.” Mick pokes at a lettuce leaf of unknown species. “Because I can _sear_ a salmon.”

“If you put seared salmon on a salad, it wouldn’t be an _appetizer_ salad.” Len drawls pettily.

“Even you have to admit my lemon dressing is to die for, Snart.”

“Okay _fine,_ you can make a good salad, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't make _this_ salad.” Let retorts.

“This isn’t even a _real_ salad," Mick says, and Len realizes he’s baited the other man to go on a salad-themed rant. “It’s a shitty excuse for an appetizer that’s just a bunch of limp leaves on a fucking plate with half-assed dressing, and even an idiot could put oil, spices, and _goddamned_ vinegar together better than this—"

“Would you two _shut up_?” Sam interjects.

“Or what?” Len turns to him, eyebrows raised in challenge as he cocks his head slightly. Mick silently backs him up by mimicking his movements. Len and Mick are on the same side now, and when Sam realizes the other two have ganged up on him, he visibly gulps. Thankfully, he thinks of an idea to soothe the tension.

Sam raises his spoon in mock defense. "I'll figure out a way to abduct everyone’s salad and drop it into the mirror dimension. And _then_ I’ll go after the entrees.”

Len tries so hard not to laugh.

Mick does too.

When Captain Cold and Heatwave finally start laughing, Sam can relax knowing his gamble paid off. Scudder lets himself smile and then Team Flash is laughing with equal enthusiasm as that of the Rogues. Lisa pokes Sam in the side in approval and sees that even _Harry_ is laughing a little.

Len looks around the table, and his eyes pause on Barry who's giggling and smiling. It's like Barry's face is made to smile, like his lips are meant to be curved upwards, like his eyes are _supposed_ to crinkle and squint with effort. It's _adorable,_ and Len knows that Barry deserves _so_ much better than a man who runs off after kissing him.

With a sigh, Len refreshes the cold expression on his face, hiding the levity he'd previously felt—because it’s safer this way—and leans over Mick to passive aggressively dump all of his salad, dressing and all, over Sam’s plate. A leaf catches on the spoon that Sam still holds outwards. Sam’s mouth drops open in astonishment, and the whole table quiets.

"Oh whoops," Len says, "my hand slipped."

Len smirks as he shrugs his shoulders, gesturing lightheartedness, and then everyone is laughing again _._ Len sees Barry smile again, but it's directed at Sam instead of _Len,_ and now it's Len's gamble that's paid off, beautifully, too.

Len settles for a mischievous grin aimed in Sam's general direction, and Scudder lets himself laugh, albeit nervously at first.

The waitress returns, hiding her horror as she gazes upon the mess of salad in front of Sam because the two servings are too much for one plate. She's doing her best to ignore that a grown man clearly just dumped salad on a fellow passenger and decides she isn't paid enough to deal with this.

“Are you all ready to give your orders?” She pulls out her notebook and pen.

Barry nods, and she takes the gesture as a cue to take Barry's order first.

"I'll have the sirloin please," Barry tells her, handing over his menu after she finishes scribbling. "Cooked medium rare," more scribbles, "Oh, and add a lobster tail to that, if you will." He pauses, and she pauses as well, expecting Barry to add more dishes to his order. Of course, Barry ends up adding a side of mashed potatoes with extra butter at the last second.

The waitress is glancing at him warily but still crawls down his order while Barry fights not adding other food to his order. Luckily, Cisco and Caitlin come to his rescue, ordering large meals and extra sides that are high in calories; fully planning on giving the additional portions to Barry once they arrive. Cisco orders two servings of macaroni and cheese, and Caitlin orders a loaded sweet potato along with a loaded regular potato. Barry sends them both grateful looks once the waitress leaves them to collect the rest of the orders from the others.

Harry also orders the sirloin, but orders it rare. Jesse orders the seafood pasta dish, and Wally orders snow crab legs. Iris and Eddie split a couple’s seafood combo, complete with several types of crab, a variety of fish, and a lobster tail, along with mussels, clams, and an unrecognizable exotic crustacean.

With Team Flash’s orders down, it’s onto the Rogues. Len starts off by asking for a weird cucumber soup combo that also comes with three sides. Barry is sure Len orders the dish because it's the only cold entrée on the menu.

Mick orders shrimp flambé, predictably.

Sam orders a seared salmon salad—because Mick’s argument with Len earlier made him curious, and the restaurant does have one on the menu—and Len shoots him a _I disapproving_ glance. Sam shudders and looks back down at his reflection in his spoon.

Lisa orders the seafood pasta, Hartley orders a medium well sirloin, Shawna asks for the cucumber soup that Len had ordered, and Mark—who is drinking a Hurricane—orders snow crab legs—which makes Shawna laugh because he had ordered them because they have the word 'snow' in them.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t _you_ who ordered the snow crab legs," Cisco says to Len after Mark finishes placing his order.

“I thought about it, but they weren’t _cold_ enough for me," Len returns smugly.

“Seemed like the name was _ice cold_ enough." Cisco says.

“Actions speak louder than words, Ramon,” Len drawls. “Snow crab legs are only _reminiscent_ of something cold while the cucumber soup _is actually_ cold.”

“Well enjoy not having enough calories.” Cisco snaps back.

“Actually—”

“Don’t humor him,” Mick holds out a hand to Len, and Len quiets. “Now, I’m ready for my flambé already.”

"Just don't catch the table on fire," Cisco mutters.

“I’ll be catching _you_ on fire if you don't quit antagonizing me and my team," Mick says back to him, leaning forward slightly in an aggressive—albeit protective towards his fellow Rogues—gesture. Meanwhile, Jesse and Wally are happily conversing about their own day’s events, attempting to mind their own business.

“I _did_ see those dolphins!" Jesse exclaims, referencing the dolphins that had been swimming in the ocean close to the ship that morning.

“We could get up early tomorrow and see them again if you want?” Wally offers hesitantly, phrasing it like a question. “As long as we could sneak past your dad.”

“I’d love that.”

“Should we meet out on the balcony at sunrise then?”

"Yeah, that sounds—" A flying tomato hits Jesse on the cheek, and Wally stands up, pushing back his chair with a loud squeak.

“Hey!” He shouts, pointing in the direction of the Rogues, not knowing who had thrown it. “Don’t throw things at her!”

“Aww, little Wally is protecting his girlfriend," Shawna taunts and tosses another tomato.

“I don’t need protection! He’s just being nice!” Jesse says, tugging Wally down by the sleeve of his suit jacket. Mick snickers.

“Sure, sweetie, whatever you say,” The teleporter says. She exchanges a glance with Mick, popping the last tomato on her plate into her mouth.

“Len, get your Rogues in line.” Barry hisses across the table. “We’re drawing too much attention.”

Len leans back in his chair, “Naw, I would rather watch the chaos unfold.” He puts his hands behind his head. “It’s much more _entertaining.”_

Len decides he might enjoy Barry infuriated as much as Len enjoys Barry smiling. On the contrary, Barry is contemplating forgoing his and Len's agreement entirely just to have the justification of throwing Len off the ship in a spectacular fashion.

“Hey Mark! Check this out." Sam holds up his spoon and drops one of the tomatoes from his salad _into_ it, and it comes flying out of Mark’s spoon—which is currently in his hand—to hit the Weather Wizard right on the nose. Mark flinches, realizes what has happened, and flat out throws his spoon at the other man. Mark isn't about to let Sam get away with throwing tomatoes at him through the mirror dimension.

Shawna’s hand shoots forward and catches the tossed spoon. She gets the not so bright idea to throw it at Barry.

“Eyes up, _Flash.”_ She says quickly as she hurls the utensil forward, and Barry catches it effortlessly, hardly accessing his speed. Harry—who's only frustrating himself by sticking around—plucks the spoon from Barry's hand by leaning over Caitlin and throws it to the ground under the table, putting his foot on it to keep anyone from trying to snatch it back.

"Enough—" Harry starts, but the food arrives, and it's nigh impossible to get anyone to pay attention to _him_ now.

Hartley glances over at Cisco, who glares back at him by default. Cisco picks up his table knife and points it in Hartley's direction threateningly as Cisco’s food is placed in front of him, and Hartley picks up his spoon, pointing it with equal menace across the table.

Len obviously sees all of this and shoots Barry a look that lets the other man know that Len is quite entertained. Len's smirking as he looks between the super-pissed-off Cisco and more-bickering-than-arguing Hartley, then back to Barry again. Len waggles his eyebrows suggestively.  

Barry gasps, realizing what Len’s implying, and leans forward to smack his hands down on the table in shock to stop that train of thought. Cisco gets surprised by the sudden loud noise, and the table knife goes flying, landing in front of Hartley with a dull noise when it sticks into the table. The Pied Piper reacts by jumping back in his chair. Behind Hartley is the _unfortunate_ server that is holding Mick's shrimp flambé. The top of the back of Hartley’s chair hits the server’s abdomen sharply. To no one's surprise, the server jumps back and Mick’s flaming seafood goes flying off the plate. It lands on the tablecloth which apparently is _very_ flammable.

Everything lights up pretty quickly after that, and Cisco is out of his chair and scooting backward before his brain catches up with what's happening. Eddie and Iris, who have been giggling the entire time at their own host of inside jokes gasp and hop out of their chairs in unison. Caitlin freezes, luckily far enough from the flames to not be harmed. Len is calmly standing up and walking away as if nothing is wrong, and everyone else is either gasping or screaming save for Mick, who looks on the now-on-fire table in complete adoration, his face red in the blaze.

“Mardon!” Len shouts. “Take _care_ of it.”

Mark’s obedience is immediate. The man’s next actions are, admittedly, smart, because he pretends to pat out the flames with a cloth napkin, even though Barry, upon tapping into the Speedforce to slow down everything around him, sees that Mark is almost imperceptively using his powers to create a concentrated mist of water over the table that targets the flames. Soon, he's extinguished them with little fuss.

In front of the charred remains of the Rogues' dinner, Mark bows. The wait staff is staring at the two parties and everyone else remains understandably overwhelmed.

"So," Mick breaks the silence. "Who wants to share a Bananas Foster with me?”

Lisa flat out slaps him.

~

“This wasn’t worth it.” Barry hands over the S.T.A.R. Labs platinum card, telling the waitress to charge the damages to it. Hartley, Mark, and Shawna had agreed that if Barry paid for the charred remains, then they would pay for the replacement of their entrees, an olive branch for the trouble Mick’s shrimp caused.

“At least it makes for a good story.” Caitlin reassures.

"A good story I can't tell anyone," Barry says through gritted teeth. "The story of how we had dinner with our _supervillains_ and the table caught on _fire_.”

“It does sound _cooler_ than it actually was.” Len jokes from a few feet away.

“Not _now,_ Len." Barry hisses, forever amused at how the other man can always slip a cold pun into any conversation. "I don't have the patience for your jokes."

"I'll see you around, Barry," Len says, bowing his head briefly, and walks off once he’s sure that the food is paid for. The Rogues follow him in silence without prompt.

Barry is then left with the rest of Team Flash, and since it isn’t their side of the table that had been torched, they still opt to eat their dinner, even if it is a little…cold.

The rest of their meal is peaceful and calm, and the wait staff is far happier with just the eight of them—the good guys—eating, even if the waiters and waitresses have to figure out how to tell their manager that a table caught on fire.

It’s only when they order dessert that Barry goes back to being slightly pissed.

“Don’t do it.” Harry warns.

Cisco smiles.

“Don’t…” Harry repeats, trying to figure out how to strangle the younger man when no one is looking.

"I'll have the Bananas Foster please." Cisco orders, unable to resist and the waitress almost chokes. "Utensils for the table."

Yup, Harry is going to kill him.

When the Bananas Foster is finally dropped off, Harry hogs the dish and makes sure Cisco gets not a bit of it, and Barry doesn’t even touch his spoon, too lost in thought to care. Caitlin gets a few bites, and Iris and Eddie don’t bother trying. Wally and Jesse get most of it, only due to their proximity to Harry and by default, the dessert.

"We'll take the check," Cisco says instead of ordering another serving, and Harry takes back his death wishhanging onto it for later use while Barry pays for the meal, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is entirely Len and Barry because it's time for a follow-up for that kiss!


	13. Walking the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up day three on the _Fate of the Seas_! Cisco's playlist this chapter--though really it should be Barry's this time around--includes [The Unwinding Cable Car](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5SBYhZyo1s) by Anberlin (for Barry) and [There's No Going Back](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=there%27s+no+going+back+sick+puppies+) by Sick Puppies (for Len).
> 
> Also, it was brought to my attention that some of you may not know what a Bananas Foster is. The important part is that it's a dessert that is served on fire. Like it's a flaming dessert. You can read more about it [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bananas_Foster).

Barry makes it back to his room just after midnight and brews a cup of coffee to keep his hands busy. Sure, the drink can’t keep him awake, but Barry can still appreciate the bitter taste when it suits his mood. Especially now, when he’s exhausted and angry about how _terrible_ the night’s events had gone. Not to mention that Len hadn’t seemed to notice him, save for a few snide remarks and snippy comments that make Barry feel as if maybe there really isn’t anything between the two of them. Maybe the kiss they’d shared had been a glitch in the system and nothing more.

Barry shakes his head and tries to distract himself by inhaling the harsh scent of cruise ship coffee. His nose scrunches up, and the drink is a little too hot when he sips it, but he’s a speedster. The burn never lasts long.

The other members of Team Flash had gone to bed a little while ago. Barry considers going out to the balcony, but that would involve either creeping past the insomniac that is Earth-2 Harrison Wells or trying to maneuver between Cisco and Wally’s sleeping sofa and Eddie and Iris’s bed. Barry decides against it.

He heads to his room, drinks his coffee and actually tries to sleep.

~

_There are people and lots of sound._

_There’s gold. It’s the Mask of Fate._

_Barry reaches towards it and it’s in his grasp._

_Something pushes him back._

_“Not you,” a voice says, and the mask is yanked from his hands by a strong invisible force._

Barry suddenly wakes up and realizes he’s not alone. He locates the trespasser easily and pushes them into the nearest hard surface—the back of the door—and leans forward. Barry loosens his grip once he recognizes the intruder.

“Snart?” Barry says. He flashes to the light switch, turns it on at superspeed and moves back to Len as the room brightens.

“Barry?”

“How did you get in here? _How did you know where I live_?” Barry hisses.

Len presses a cool—and isn’t _that_ just ironic—finger to Barry’s lips to quiet him.

“We aren’t alone, Scarlet. Keep your voice down. We wouldn't want to wake Dr. Wells and his pulse rifle now would we?" He says rhetorically, and after a moment of silence from Barry, Len removes his finger.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Barry says quietly when he’s brave enough to speak again.

"Rathaway told me where to go and Baez got me through the door," Len says freely.

“That’s a questionable use of powers, don’t you think?” Barry asks.

“Oh _absolutely_ ,” Len confirms Barry’s suspicions, “Relax, Scarlet.” Len raises his hands. “I didn’t bring my gun here. You’re safe. I’m not gonna shoot you or any of your _friends_.”

Barry abruptly lets go of Len and does a super-powered reconnaissance mission in Team Flash’s stateroom. After seeing everyone is safe and sound and _unaware_ of what’s happening in Barry’s room, the speedster returns and resumes pinning Len to the wall.

“All I want to do is talk,” Len answers, trying to keep his voice steady, “So if you can let me go, that would be great. It’s hard to talk like gentlemen when one of them is being threatened.”

Barry sighs, but lets him go anyway. The other man makes himself at home by sitting down on the bed. Then _Captain Cold_ is leaning back against the headboard and is inviting Barry to sit next to him.

"I want to apologize," Len says, placing his hands calmly in his lap. Barry takes a nervous step forward but hesitates when he would otherwise take another.

“What for?”

Len beckons again, wanting to reach out to grab the speedster, but refrains. Barry takes the hint, and what harm could it do? He’s cautious as he sits down next to Len, and he’s immediately conscious of how close he is to the other man. Their shoulders _have_ to touch—or else Barry would fall off the bed—and he tries not to imagine them cuddling, Barry leaning on the shoulder of the other man, relishing the warmth of basic human contact. Len’s arm would be around him, holding him, keeping him _safe_. It’s all too _easy_ to picture.

“I’m sorry I ran away from you last night after I kissed you," Len says. Barry’s brain comes back online, barely, and Len looks over at him, almost appearing _shy_. Barry, on the contrary, is shocked.

“Oh.” Is all Barry can manage to say, and he immediately regrets it, wishing he could have said _anything_ else. “Why did you?” he quickly adds.

“I—” Len doesn’t know how he’s going to say it, “I freaked out. It’s been a while, that’s all. And if I’m being honest, before you, the only thing I wanted to kiss was a diamond.”

“ _What?”_ Barry asks, incredulous.

“It was a _big_ diamond!” Len defends, “but still.”

Barry is surprised by his honesty and then notices that Len isn’t drawling as much. He’s not dragging out words as often, and Barry _digs_ it. Barry is talking to _Len,_ not _Captain Cold,_ and the thought thrills him just enough to want to look over at the other man. They’re so _close_ now, and Barry’s expression is warm, and Len is finding it hard to breathe—

“If you’re sorry for that, then I’m sorry for kissing you back so roughly.” Barry says, his eyes drifting from Len’s own to the older man’s legs, unable to keep eye contact any longer. Barry suddenly wants to know how those legs would feel against his own, intertwined like a pretzel and—

“No, you don’t have to apologize for that. _I’m_ the one who came here to apologize, not you.” Len argues, shifting closer, and Barry lets him so that their bodies are touching from shoulders to knees. Len is much warmer than Barry had initially thought.

Additionally, Barry _is_ kind of cold right now, so what harm could be done when Barry shifts closer in return?

"Well still," Barry says.

“'Still' nothing, Scarlet," he says, and then Len does something really stupid. “How can I make it up to you?”

And Barry does something even _stupider. “_ By letting _me_ kiss _you_.” Barry says as his anxiety threatens him with the sharp knife of hesitation, “please don’t run.”

“Okay," Len says, and it's all he can muster in his current mindset.

“So… can I kiss you?” Barry asks, face flushed in obvious fear of rejection.

Len finds it cute. “Barry, you don’t ever have to ask again.”

Barry turns to kiss him and then the speedster’s hands are on his face, his neck, his shoulders, and then everywhere all at once. His lips are making Len dizzy and it might be from lack of breathing or that Barry is just _that_ good of a kisser, and really, either could be true at this point. It’s almost violent, and Len just _takes_ it, feeling like he’s dying but in a good way. Len is happy to have Barry back but also angry with himself for being so _needy_.

In a swift motion, Len moves on top of Barry, pinning the younger man's hips down with his own, pushing him back into the pillows with Len’s hands heavy on his shoulders. The older man shifts the momentum of the kiss in his favor, shoving his tongue into Barry’s mouth instead of the other way around, showing Barry that Len doesn’t _need_ him, that _Barry_ is the one who needs _Len,_ right? Len's hands move down the younger man's arms, migrating towards slender forearms that Len wants to be wrapped around himself as much as he wants to grip them tight enough to bruise. In the end, Len's got his hands around Barry's wrists, holding the other man down, and he can tell Barry _likes_ it because the speedster is laughing against Len’s lips.

“I forgive you.” Barry laughs again, his breaths ragged, and Len possesses him with another kiss. “And this—” Barry surges up to return it with a fierce clashing of lips, “—makes up for it for sure.”

Len knows that Barry needs this. Barry needs _him_ and Len’s forced to admit to himself he needs this too, that he needs to see Barry happy at his hands, not angry or sad or _hurt_. Especially after Barry had told him all about what he’s fought in his short time as the Flash, Len himself included. Between Eobard Thawne and the other metas, Len is frankly amazed that Barry isn’t damaged and broken beyond repair. The Flash isn’t unfixable, unlike Len.

But Len guesses that’s what makes Barry the hero and Len the villain, because Len will never be what the Flash is, what _Barry_ is. He can’t be a self-sacrificing, dive-headfirst-into-danger vigilante, not in a million years.

But he can do one thing, just _one_ good thing. Maybe.

He pulls back and looks down at Barry, who’s blissed out below him, eyes darkened a little dazed.

"Let me take care of you," Len says.

Barry nods, and Len doesn’t think Barry knows what Len means, but Len does what needs to be done, pretty sure that Barry would kick his ass if he’s uncomfortable with anything. Len just shoves Barry deeper into the mattress, covering the speedster’s body with his own, _protecting_ him, silently urging him to know he’s _safe_ as he presses his lips to the younger man’s ear.

“Barry, you did the right thing," Len whispers and then kisses him deeply.

“Wh—what?” Barry stutters in confusion and uncertainty, unsure of where Len’s going with this. He had been expecting grinding, maybe some clothes coming off, and the conversation of where the lube and the condoms are. He’d been expecting anything but… _that._

Len continues and explains, looking down at Barry, blocking out the overhead lighting so that the younger man is blanketed by Len’s shadow.

“With Eobard Thawne. You did the right thing.” Len repeats the motions, kissing Barry hard again, and _then_ Len hears a gasp of understanding from the other man, and Len knows Barry gets it.

Barry tries to talk, but Len’s having none of that. He moves his mouth to bite along Barry's jaw and the other man stills, humming in what Len assumes to be happiness. After resting his lips on the spot between Barry’s shoulder and his neck—exploiting the sensitive area Len had found the night before—Len bites down _hard._

The moan that Barry releases is long and deep and Len has to stifle it with another possessive kiss lest they wake the rest of Barry's friends. Len doesn't want to be on the receiving end of that pulse rifle because it _seriously_ gives him the chills and _not_ in a good way.

“Len,” Barry says against his lips, “Please.”

“Please what, Barry?” Len had been quiet, substituting speech with biting kisses.

“More—” Barry tells him, words sluggish, and he’s hardly coherent, but Len understands. Maybe he is doing the right thing. “—of those things you said.”

Len knows he won’t remind the other man of how needy he seems then, how wanting and desperate and almost _weak_ he sounds, but Len will remember. He always does. He reminds himself that honesty isn’t a weakness. It’s a positive character trait. Maybe Len should pay more attention to its value, but at a later time. There are more important things to take care of, like the man below him, who really is starting to perplex Len, but he sure does enjoy his puzzles.

“Barry, it’s okay.” Len says with a sigh and a smile, “I told you I’d take care of you.”

Barry nods, relaxing under him, and Len releases his hold on the younger man’s wrists and shifts so that he’s lying on his back. Pulling the speedster against his side, Len cuddles Barry closer, and the younger man accepts the invitation, soon using Len’s surprisingly warm bicep as a pillow. Barry is on his back, eyes closed, one arm resting on his abdomen with the other bent at the elbow so that his hand can entwine with Len’s.

Earlier, Len hadn’t been sure what Barry would have wanted after Len had apologized to him, and even that was assuming Barry would have wanted him for anything at all. But now, after Len has been forgiven, if Barry just needs someone to tell him he didn’t fuck up and isn’t a failure, well, Len will happily volunteer.

Barry’s eyes are still closed when Len looks over at him. Those lids haven’t fluttered open for a while now, but Len still moves to turn off the lights for the sake of his own eyes. Thanks to small staterooms, he only has to shift slightly to reach the switch. After they’ve both returned to their former positions, he takes a breath, staring at the ceiling.

“It isn’t your fault your mother died by Eobard’s hands.” He says, and Barry hums in response, in recognition that Len understands. “Even if you chose not to save her, it’s not your fault, Barry. That’s on Eobard.

“When I was originally testing your speed, back at the Central City museum, it isn’t your fault that the man shot by my cold gun died.” Barry turns his head away from Len, just slightly, when he says the words. “That was my fault, not yours, Scarlet. Never yours.” Len does his best to fix that because he has to, and Barry actually moves _closer_ to him after he says the words.

Len breathes a sigh of relief and continues. “It isn’t your fault that I kidnapped Cisco and his brother. You couldn’t help being the Flash. That’s on me too. And it certainly isn’t your fault that Eobard blew up the particle accelerator that he knew would kill people. Those people died because of _Eobard,_ and metahumans exist because of _Eobard,_ not because of you, even if the particle accelerator was blown up in your name.

“It isn’t your fault Eddie can’t father a child. It isn’t your fault Ronnie died stopping the singularity,” Barry shakes a little at those words because, after the night before, Len _knows_ who really saved Central City that day. Just one more person knows the truth, and that’s something Barry needs right now. Len is understanding the speedster more and more, which means he’s understanding _Flash_ more and more.

Barry Allen has more facets than the most brilliantly cut diamond in the world and Len wants to explore every one of them.

“It’s not your fault that the singularity killed people. You aren’t responsible for those deaths and you’re not responsible for the fallout or the destruction. It’s _not your fault._ It’s Eobard’s, Barry. You’re just one man with really bad luck when it comes to being struck by lightning. You did your best. You _always_ do your best, and no one can blame you for that.” Len finishes, hoping he didn’t push too far. He wouldn’t know what to do if he did.

It’s then that Len realizes Barry is trembling, and he isn’t sure _why,_ until he feels wetness on his shirt. Barry Allen is crying and Len responds by running a gentle hand through Barry’s hair. It’s enough to quiet the sobs and subdue the younger man. Len shushes him and calms the tears being shed. It seems to be enough for Barry, so it’s enough for Len.

“Thank you.” Barry smiles, glistening eyes meeting Len’s own. The night hadn’t turned out the way Len had originally planned, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t content now. Barry is happy, and that does something to Len that makes his heart soar in a way it hasn’t before. For once in his life, Len had done the right thing at the right time in the right place.

He just has to promise himself he won’t let himself become addicted to Barry’s happiness or let Barry’s smiles become something he can’t get enough of. But maybe, just on the _Fate of the Seas_ , Len can indulge. He watches without guilt as the younger man falls asleep in his arms. Barry has a smile on his lips, and it’s the most beautiful thing Len has ever seen.

_Your happiness will not be my addiction,_ Len silently tells the other man. But Len is lying to himself because he knows Barry Allen is going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened. Originally I was planning smut for this chapter, but as you could probably tell, it went a very different direction. In addition, some of the things Len was telling him were things that he needs to hear himself. Len isn't broken beyond repair, but he has issues feeling like he's worthy sometimes. On another note, Len--being the sneaky diamond thief he is--will continue to compare Barry to a beautiful diamond. 
> 
> Also, I don't know if I need to warn for this or not, but if you guys haven't guessed by now (and that's okay) this version of Len and this version of Barry don't have a defined "top" or "bottom" role. When Len first kissed Barry after their casino date, Barry took control after that. Here, Barry kissed first, but Len took control. I wasn't originally planning for them to switch like that, but eh, when does a story not diverge from the outline just a little bit? After all, remember this was just supposed to be a one shot of Barry and Len running into each other in a Jacuzzi.
> 
> Anyways, stay tuned for the start of Day four on the _Fate of the Seas_!


	14. When Things Go from Bad to Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely not the morning after that Barry was expecting. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter starts with [All Fall Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qf6hLhrHtqg) by One Republic and ends with [In the Middle of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC6tCDD80jg) by Within Temptation.
> 
> Sorry for being slightly late on this week's update. This chapter is rather long and I almost considered cutting it into two because of the time it was taking to edit. 
> 
> I went nah, fuck that. 
> 
> Y'all enjoy :)

Lisa Snart, at the crack of dawn, literally _kicks_ down the door that leads to Team Flash's suite and waltzes in, her gold gun ready to fire. After she sees figures out on the balcony, she hardly refrains from shattering the sliding glass doors and instead does her best to calmly slide them open. They slam.

“Where. Is. Lenny.” She shouts at Iris West and Eddie Thawne, who are enjoying the sunrise out on the balcony with hot coffee, hot eggs, and bacon.

Iris, predictably, screams and her plate crashes to the ground. Eddie jumps up and shoves his fiancée behind him to snap at Lisa.

“Get. Out.” Eddie says warily.

Lisa laughs. “Not until I get my brother back.” She takes a few steps forward, leveling her gun at Thawne’s forehead. “Now where. Is. He.”

“What?” Eddie says, unsure of what to do and quite confused. His brain quickly kicks into action and takes stock of his situation.

Eddie’s handgun is hidden in his room, and none of the others are up. Eddie is just pissed that he and Iris are in trouble and there's no immediate help available to them. And Lisa was looking for—

“Lisa, what are you _doing_?”

_Oh_.

Snart continues, “You can’t just barge in here!” he shouts from the hallway, striding out to the balcony to join his sister and not minding Eddie and Iris in the slightest.

Then _Barry_ follows Snart out to the balcony, hair mussed from sleeping.

Eddie is briefly losing his grip on reality. “What is going on?!” he shouts uselessly. The Snart siblings obviously ignore him.

“Lenny, _I_ didn’t know where you went!” Lisa replies, gesturing with her gun as if it _isn’t_ a deadly weapon.

“It was technically none of your _business.”_ He drawls. “Who I spend my nights with doesn’t _concern_ you.”

“Wait,” Lisa pauses, looks again at the speedster, “you slept with _Barry_?”

“Oh no, we didn’t have sex!” Barry interjects, erratically shaking his hands.

“Then what _were_ you doing with my brother last night, _Flash?”_ Lisa makes a dramatic motion of crossing her arms after holstering her gun.

“Umm,” Barry scratches the back of his neck.

“We were just hanging out.” Len answers.

"Lenny, are you _five?”_ Lisa asks. “You’re a _supervillain,_ the Flash’s one true _nemesis—”_

“—actually—” Barry holds up a finger.

“Don’t _push_ it, Scarlet.” Len hisses.

“—and you of all people should know you _can’t sleep with the enemy._ ” Lisa lectures him, and Len—much to Barry’s surprise— _lets_ her. “We have a _heist_ to plan. We don’t have _time_ for this. And you can’t get frisky with the _Flash!_ Especially when you aren’t letting me get frisky with Sam _and we are dating_!”

“That’s only because these rooms don’t have thick walls and you two are _not_ quiet!” Len bickers. “At least Barry and I aren’t loud!”

“We didn’t have sex!” Barry repeats.

“Barry, shut up!” Lisa and Len turn and shout at him in unison. If Barry is being honest with himself, it’s a little frightening.

Meanwhile, Iris and Eddie have been carefully inching away from Len, Lisa, and Barry. They’re to the point where when they can finally make a run for it, quickly leaving the Snart siblings and Barry alone on the balcony. Len is sure their bickering is waking up the rest of the suite, but it’s beyond fixing now.

But speaking of noise, Len notices that without him and Lisa yelling at each other, it _is_ quiet. It’s not the kind of quiet that’s only found in the morning either, and Len has had plenty of opportunities to experience that o

n this voyage.

“Lisa, there’s something—” Len begins.

"Lenny we are going," Lisa says sternly. " _Now.”_

Lisa, prompted by Iris and Eddie’s exit, grabs Len by the arm and drags him off the balcony and back inside the suite, where the others have risen to witness what the hap is fuckening.

Before Lisa and Len can escape, Harry Wells comes barreling out of his room to block the exit. Harry aims his pulse rifle in Len’s general direction. In response, Len shrugs off Lisa’s grip and rushes to the balcony. He returns with the cold gun in tow and the weapon is aimed right back at Harry within seconds.

“Not so fast,” Len says as the whir of the gun fills the air.

“You said you were unarmed!” Barry shrieks.

“I was, _Barry_ ," Len says. "I didn't lie to you."

“You had your cold gun this whole time!”

“Not the _whole_ time. When I told you I was unarmed, I _was_ unarmed.”

Barry lets out a cry of frustration in lieu of a carefully formulated verbal reply.

Of course, Len’s response to this is far more calculated. “I wasn’t planning to _shoot_ you with it!” Len explains, “I just had it hidden in case I _needed_ it.” He gestures in Harry’s vicinity cracks his neck, “And apparently, _I do.”_

“Drop the gun,” Harry says. So… _brave._

“Can’t do that,” Len replies stereotypically.

"Harry…" Barry walks over to where the older man stands and tries to get him to lower his rifle. To Barry's surprise, his grip is strong and unwavering.

“Let me and my sister leave, and no one gets hurt.” Len demands, “That’s all we want.”

“Yeah, for _now._ ” Harry retorts.

“Dad, let them go.” Jesse says, speaking for the first time since Lisa had broken down the door, “I don’t want you frozen, please.”

Harry looks at her, seems to have a mental battle with himself, and then lowers his gun.

“Get. Out.” Harry orders.

Lisa nods, grabs Len’s arm again—“Lise is that really necessary?”—and continues out the broken door. She leads Len towards the elevators and they head back towards the Rogues’ stateroom.

~

The silence is deafening.

“Well _that_ was interesting,” Barry finally says, scratching the back of his neck again as he addresses the newly awakened group.

“Allen, that’s an understatement," Harry says, pulse rifle still in hand. The Rogues could come back at any moment.

“Barry, what did you do?” Eddie asks him.

“It’s complicated. Len and I—” Barry begins, “—well, he snuck into my room last night, and we were just talking, and things… escalated and he ended up staying—”

“You slept with _Leonard Snart?”_ Eddie questions. “Captain Cold?”

“Barry…” Iris is just shaking her head, but what for Barry can’t tell. He can’t perceive much beyond disapproval from the others.

“Guys, it’s not like that!” Barry tries in vain to salvage.

“Then what _is_ it like?" Jesse says, her skepticism thick in her voice. Wally nods from next to her, their shoulders touching.

“It's complicated," Barry says, immediately regretting _that_ choice of words.

"Go on," Iris says, moving her hand in a cyclical motion to silently urge Barry to continue.

“Look, last night, Len and I just kinda talked for a little bit, and then like, we cuddled because it was convenient, and from there—” Barry continues, realizing halfway through that the others don’t know about the kiss. He doesn’t have time to explain, though.

“You _cuddled_ with _Captain Cold?”_ Cisco exclaims. “Dude, you’re kidding.”

Barry shakes his head.

Cisco moves to walk away but refrains because he needs to stick around. This is an _important_ conversation. Barry looks helpless and then quickly grows accusatory.

“ _You_ guys—” Barry gestures to Cisco and Caitlin, “—encouraged me to go to the casino with him. From _there_ things just happened—”

“—oh no, you don’t get to blame us, Barry—” Caitlin interjects and Cisco nods in agreement.

“—we had a lot of fun and by the end of the night we were relaxed around one another, and I told him about Eobard—” Barry tries to continue and predictably fails.

“You did _what?”_ Eddie all but shouts, but Barry doesn’t stop talking. He’s never going to get it all out if he stops to explain himself at _every. Single. Interruption._

“—and at one point, he kissed me—”

“Barry!” Cisco says.

“—and _ran away!_ So last night we made up, okay? He _apologized,_ and I was _grateful,_ alright? _”_ Barry finishes the story for now. He could tell the rest later. Knowing the rest of Team Flash, he would end up telling them eventually.

"Oh, Barry…" Iris soothes, fighting the urge to place a hand on Barry’s back.

“You’re _sympathizing_ with him?” Eddie says. He’s given up on keeping his voice down.

“Well, if I recall, _you_ did that once to me.” Iris looks pointedly at her fiancée and crosses her arms.

“Once!” Eddie replied.

“Yes, _once.”_ Iris continues, “And this is _Barry’s ‘_ once’. And _we_ ,” she points between Eddie and herself, “are getting _married_ now.”

Eddie shuts his trap to take a mental step back. _Oh god,_ he thinks. _She’s actually supportive of this._

“Okay,” Cisco says. “This is actually happening.”

"It already happened," Eddie says from under his breath.

“He’s a murderer!” Caitlin shrieks, “He kidnapped Cisco! And _me!_ He’s tried to kill _you_ ,” she points at Barry, “multiple times!”

“Cait…” Barry doesn’t know how to reply to that. If he’s being true to himself, he’s trying not to think about it.

“Did you kiss him back?” The doctor asks. To Barry’s surprise, he notices there is the barest hint of interest in her voice.

“Of course!” Barry blurts out.

Caitlin’s face twists into an odd hybrid of approval and disapproval. On one hand, she’s happy for Barry. But on the other hand, it’s _Captain Cold._

“Going back to what Snow said earlier,” Wells begins, steering the conversation back to what he considers far more important than minor details that remind him of petty middle school gossip. “By rational thought, Allen, he’s probably tricking you, using you for some gain. Keeping you wrapped around his finger so he can use this against you later.”

“I’m not wrapped about _Leonard Snart’s_ finger," Barry argues.

"You keep fighting for him, but he's given you no reason," Harry says.

“He has!” Barry defends. “The Snart I know on the _Fate of the Seas_ is hardly like the Snart I know back home. He listened to me, and…” _hasn’t tried to kill me in a while._

Barry stops talking and taps into the Speedforce to slow everything down. He realizes that Len _has_ given him few reasons to defend him. Of course, that could be because of Len’s inferiority complex, right? How he never feels good enough? Even Barry can sympathize with that. Len obviously knows Barry feels that way too if last night is any indication.

Regardless, Barry’s gut tells him that he has no reason to think Len is any different. Barry is smart enough to know that change hardly happens in such a short amount of time anyway. Leonard Snart is still a criminal, a liar, and a thief—Captain Cold told him that much at Ferris Air—and Barry _won’t_ forget that. But while manipulation is a logical explanation for Len’s recent activities, Barry's instincts are saying otherwise.

What is comes down to is that Captain Cold may be a semi-formidable, slightly annoying, and very entertaining supervillain, but from Barry’s recently gained perspective, Captain Cold is mostly a _character,_ similar to how the Flash is a character. When Barry is the Flash, even he talks differently, walks differently, and even makes the occasional speed pun in the name of justice.

Additionally, Barry wouldn't have the opportunity to see beyond Len's parka-clad persona if not for this cruise. Putting Len's crimes and wrongdoings aside, he's still a person with feelings, hopes, and dreams common to the human experience.

Barry wonders who Len was _before_ he was Captain Cold, which leads Barry to wonder what the Flash is going to do when he encounters Captain Cold again once they get back to Central City. This cruise has Barry believing that there’s good in Len more now than ever.

Barry’s head starts to spin. This is too much.

He lets the world return to normal speed once more and doesn’t bother finishing his original sentence.

“I need to go for a run, or a walk, or something.” Barry pushes past Caitlin and Cisco, then Wally and Jesse, and makes a beeline for the door. However, Iris grabs his arm.

"Barry, wait," Iris tells him quietly.

He stops, sighs, and braces himself, “I’m waiting,” Barry confirms.

“All moral qualms aside—” There’s a strangled sound from Eddie, and Harry wants to hit something, “—if you’re serious about this—”

“—I’m just going with the flow.” Barry interrupts. He’s on the defensive and Iris can’t blame him. “Len makes me happy _right now,_ I know that when we get off this ship, when the anchor drops, anything that’s happened between him and me is over. Done. It will have meant _nothing,_ ” Barry shrugs off Iris’ grip and takes a few steps towards Cisco. He puts a surprisingly steady hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We’re _here_ , on _this ship_ , for _that mask_. For _you._ And _nothing,_ not even Snart or _any_ of his Rogues, are going to stand in the way of that. _Nothing._ ”

Cisco swallows and nods.

"Good," Barry says.

~

Hartley Rathaway, just now rising from his slumber, is reclining in a chair out on the balcony. He holds a mimosa in his right hand and a smartphone in his left. Catching up on the latest issue of _Popular Mechanics_ had proven difficult due to Rogues business, but now that all he has is time until they get to the Isle of Fate, he can catch up on all the reading he’s missed.

He’s perusing an article on how heavy the new Tesla car is when he notices how _peaceful_ his surroundings are.

Hartley hasn’t ever been one for white noise—or any noise since the particle accelerator explosion—but he’s gotten used to the low pulse of the ship’s inner workings lulling him to sleep every night. He hadn’t _wanted_ to board a noisy ship for a week, but Leonard Snart is hardly the man to argue with.

Now, it’s quiet, _very_ quiet.

It’s disconcerting.

He needs to tell Snart. He would know what to do.

Hartley saves the article for later, promising to go back to it, and gulps down the rest of his mimosa. He’s going to need it.

~

_Most of the weight is found in the battery of the car. Sporting nearly two—_

It’s quiet, too quiet.

Cisco eats his waffle.

_sporting nearly—_

“Fucking hell,” Cisco says to no one and puts down his fork.

The vibe starts off slow and it’s the opposite of intense. He’s used to it being this way, but he knows it won’t last.

_He waits for the swarm of people to show like they have in all the past vibes he's had lately, but all he sees is an empty room._

_There are some chairs, but no one sits in them, despite the controls in front of the bolted furniture that look very important._

_Then there’s a sudden panic, an unforeseen worry, and a striking fear._

_It's not the fear of a collective, but of a select few that are scared, alone and downright freaked out._

_A pulse pounds in Cisco’s extrasensory ears, and it’s not his own._

_There’s another pulse._

_A group of them._

_It’s just pounding, and pounding, and pounding—_

Cisco screams as the vibe lifts, and hearing his own cry of terror makes it worse _._

Barry is suddenly there in front of him—presumably hearing his scream—and flashes around for a trash can. Finding none, Cisco hears a quick “I’m sorry” before his stomach lurches, and then he’s moving too fast.

Barry’s hand on his head—guiding him towards the rim of the toilet—is the only reason Cisco doesn’t upchuck all over the Cortex of the Seas. Cisco feels the speedster’s fingers running through his hair, calming him until the nausea passes. When Cisco nods to Barry to signal that he’s back to normal—as much as he can be—Barry pulls him into a strong embrace. Cisco lets him, and the feeling of _safety_ is enough to make him feel a _little_ better.

"You've never screamed before," Barry says, worry in his tone.

Cisco nods against his chest, stifling a sniffle. He’s sure there is blood running out of his nose, but it’s already all over his face. He can feel the wetness. He would have to clean it up soon. He is so _tired_ of this.

"We're going to get that mask," Barry promises for the second time that morning.

All Cisco can do is nod again.

Barry lets him go after a few more minutes. Cisco’s shoulders relax and he’s calmed down significantly. In a flash, there is a cold washcloth pressed against Cisco’s forehead, and another wiping away the rest of the vibe’s evidence.

Cisco lets Barry help him while he rests. He is already feeling cleaner. Additionally, Cisco is glad he doesn’t have to look in a mirror. He knows he looks like hell, and on some level, Barry catches that Cisco doesn’t want to see his reflection. It’s entirely understandable.

"It wasn't about the mask this time," Cisco says quietly.

The washcloth stops.

“What?” Barry says.

“I saw something else.” Cisco can’t say anything else. Not yet. The memory is still too strong and flashbacks can be powerful. At least when Cisco vibes the mask, he knows what to expect. Cisco had forgotten how awful his vibes can be when he doesn’t know what’s happening.

Hesitantly, Barry asks, “…can you tell me?”

Cisco nods again and speaks. “Get everyone together. This might be important.”

Cisco’s vibes always are.

~

Hartley finds himself once again in Len’s presence and takes a breath to speak.

“Something’s wrong,” Hartley says.

Len chuckles, “and what might that be?” He almost sounds _entertained._

“It’s too quiet.”

Len’s ears prick up. He signals to Mick to close his lighter and remembers that he too noticed something was… _off_ earlier that morning.

"You're right," Len says. Hartley tries not to glow _too_ much. “And it’s been quiet for a while. Mick, watch the others. Hartley, you’re coming with me.”

“Where are we going?” Hartley asks, hesitant.

“To go have a conversation with Barry Allen and the rest of his little friends," Len replies and walks out the door.

~

All of Team Flash is gathered around Cisco, who is sitting calmly on the unmade pullout couch that he and Wally sleep on every night. People are either sitting on Iris and Eddie’s bed—Iris and Eddie, and Jesse—standing—Wally, Harry, and Caitlin—or sitting with Cisco—Barry. Cisco has just finished explaining his latest vibe, and it’s not boding well.

“You’re sure it’s referencing the _Fate of the Seas_?" Harry asks after Cisco finishes relaying the imagery of the vibe.

"I could see the ocean out with window," Cisco replies, "Of _course_ it’s referencing this ship.”

“And you're sure?" Harry is pushing it now.

Cisco snaps.

“Yes, _Harrison,_ it’s on the _Fate of the Seas!_ Want to know how I know? _I just do because it’s a vibe and it’s all about feelings and instincts, and the feelings and instincts about this one are that it’s on this damn ship and not some other ship!”_ Cisco is breathing heavily and Barry has placed a hand on his back to calm him down.

Harry opens his mouth to reply, and when Cisco kills him slowly with his gaze, Harry gives up entirely and leaves the room. He’s already feeling like crap for yelling at Harry and fully plans on apologizing later. But right now—

“Yes.” Cisco says, his voice no longer a yell, “It’s on _this_ ship.” This is getting to be too much. _Three more days,_ Cisco reminds himself, a last ditch effort to keep control. He’s snapping too much, losing his patience too often. _Just three more days._

Everybody nods, nobody speaks, and there’s a knock at the door. Or better put, a knock _next_ to the door because it’s definitely still broken.

Barry flashes to it, and sees—

“Len? Hartley?” Barry says.

"Goddamnit." Barry hears Cisco mutters before there is a shuffling of footsteps and the sound of a closing door. Hartley hides a smug grin, having heard it too. He also hears the whirring of Harry’s Pulse Rifle as the scientist comes barreling down the narrow hallway. The whir of the cold gun isn’t too far behind.

“Well, well, _Wells_.” Len says, and Barry rolls his eyes, “Seems like we’re back to where we were this morning.”

“Except that this time I’m actually going to shoot you if you don’t hand over that gun and get out of my presence," Harry says.

“Whoa whoa whoa, we don’t even know why they’re here!” Wally moves between Harry and Len—which really is stupid but Harry won’t call him on it—and puts his palms out to face either one of the two.

“Yeah, you _don’t_ know why we’re here.” Len echoes, staring pointedly at Harry.

“Fine, Snart, why are you here?” Harry asks the obvious when no one else will.

“It’s Len _,_ not Snart _,”_ Len corrects, _“_ and we’re here to talk to Barry.” Len turns to the speedster, whose brain is still catching up with the day’s events.

“What about?” Barry moves forward, and Len lowers his gun. Harry doesn’t lower his own, intent on protecting Barry.

Len puts a finger to his lips. "Listen," Len says, and gestures to the space around him and implying the rest of the _Fate of the Seas_ as well.

Barry does as Len asks, and the others do too. Len sees a spark of _something_ in Cisco’s eyes.

_Good,_ Len thinks. He and Hartley aren’t the only ones who had noticed.

“It’s quiet, isn’t it?” Len asks, filling in the blanks for everyone else.

“Yes, actually.” Barry’s expression turns to confusion. “but, why?”

“The engines,” Cisco says, catching onto Len's train of thought with a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach, “They’re not running.”

“Ramon has the right idea,” Len confirms, “And what kind of cruise ship runs its engines for _three_ days, and on the morning of the fourth suddenly turns them off?”

Barry’s face is filled with some lingering confusion, and the rest of Team Flash isn’t much better. Cisco grabs his laptop and starts typing.

“If the engines are off, wouldn’t that mean we’re just floating?” Barry asks.

“Of course, we’re floating.” Hartley pipes up rudely, rolling his eyes, “The more important question is _why._ Last I heard this was a _non-stop_ cruise to the Isle of Fate.”

"Maybe they're just resetting something," Iris suggests. Eddie nods in agreement.

Cisco’s fingers quit clicking against the keyboard. “I’ve pulled up the GPS data for the ship. We were headed on a logical path towards the Isle of Fate up until…” Cisco squints, “…4 AM this morning. We're no longer following that path."

Cisco looks to Len, who nods. "Go on."

“The GPS patterns indicate we’ve drifted off-course. It’s possible the crew is trying to reset something, but there should have been an email with an accompanying text or a ship-wide announcement about the delay because, at this rate, there will be a significant one.” Cisco explains.

Hartley suddenly rushes over to Cisco and steals his computer.

“Hey, give that back!” Cisco grabs for it, confused at what Hartley’s doing, but the Piper keeps typing _and_ dodging Cisco’s grabs.

“Stop it, Cisco! I’m hacking into the emergency server,” Hartley explains, “I’m seeing if anyone on this ship has issued an emergency call, _A.K.A. something that would cause the ship to turn around._ It’s kind of important that you back off and let me do my work.”

“You could have _asked_ first,” Cisco says.

“Yeah, _sure,_ but would you have given it to me?” Hartley says.

Cisco’s silence is answer enough. Eventually, Cisco sits down next to Hartley.

“You’re not too shabby,” Cisco compliments.

“I appreciate the flattery, but silence would be better here," Hartley says and continues typing.

Cisco doesn’t say anything else.

Hartley types for a little longer before speaking again. “Lucky for us, it looks like no one has sent any emergency calls to the authorities. We might be floating, but at least we’re floating with no cops coming to turn this ship around.” Hartley announces before giving Cisco his computer back.

“Now we just need to find out what caused it,” Len doesn’t _expect_ anyone to answer with something concrete—it’s more of an open question—but Cisco nervously clears his throat. He mentally prepares himself to explain his recent vibe and takes a breath.

“I might know." Cisco begins.

"Cisco don't," Caitlin says before Cisco can tell Len about the vibe.

“No, Cisco, _do_ tell me.” Len dares.

Cisco looks between Len and Caitlin, and for one hot minute, he debates saying nothing at all _._ He decides against that and turns to the two Rogues, sighing before he speaks, “Guys, I think we’re in trouble, and I think I know _why_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember me saying in the beginning of all of this that strange things were happening? 
> 
> THEY'RE HERE.
> 
> Also, do cliffhangers exist on a fic about boats? Wavehangers? Idk there's gotta be a sea-related term for it. 
> 
> Continued thanks for the tremendous support I have gotten for this fic. It's been a wild ride so far and it's only going to get wilder from here, so thanks for sticking with me! You guys are the best.


	15. The First Daily Meeting of Incompetent Idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, I've got a lot to say about my absence, but enjoy the chapter first. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist has now resumed after pausing, with [Frost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dI4PR-kfgWM) by ATTLAS to get back in the mood that things are building up. Plus it's a great hype song and man does Team Flash need some hype and confidence right now. Maybe the Rogues too. Also [I Walk the Line](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVyEYIrR-h0) (Halsey's version) for Len concerning Barry this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter was beta-ed by [GuardianLioness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianLioness).
> 
> Also, I forgot to freak out and scream in happiness that this fic has 200 kudos now?! Like _what?_ you guys are fantastic! And thanks for all the great comments last chapter too. Major plot reveals are always nervous making, and y'all made me feel plenty better about this one!
> 
> Anyways, I'll quit rambling now so you can read.

Cisco explains everything.

He explains his experience discovering his powers, and thanks to Barry, Len understands his “origin story” much better in the context of knowing everything Eobard had done. Hartley even seems to show some sympathy when Cisco talks about how Eobard had killed him in an alternate timeline. The Piper cringes significantly more than the rest of them during Cisco’s retelling of the incident.

Cisco brushes over the vibes concerning the mask and focuses more on his latest vibe, the one that is implying something very, _very_ bad.

“So Cisco, what you’re telling me, is that you had a _vision_ that the captain is missing?” Len clarifies.

Cisco nods. "Them and the rest of the bridge crew.”

“Could they just be in a meeting?” Hartley asks.

Cisco glares, but answers him anyway, “do you remember when the _Costa Concordia_ partially sunk?”

“Of _course_ ,” Hartley says, but the others look clueless, so Cisco explains.

“The _Costa Concordia_ was a ship that set sail from the western coast of Italy and hit a rock similar to how the _RMS Titanic_ hit an iceberg. When all was said and done the ship _did_ evacuate, and it ended up like _this,_ barely making it to port, _”_ Cisco explains, pulling up a picture of the partially sunken ship. It’s a striking sight, to see such a large cruise liner on its side where half of it is in the water, but the picture illustrates Cisco’s point that it had not been a peaceful event.

Cisco continues, “Now cruise protocol includes a ‘dual watch’ clause, which basically means that there are multiple people in charge and multiple people to watch those people in charge. There’s still one captain, but more crewmembers than before to make sure that incidents like what happened to the _Costa Concordia_ never happen again. So, in summary, me vibing an empty bridge is _nothing_ but bad news. There should always be multiple people there," Cisco concludes. The others thankfully seem to understand.

“You also mentioned you felt collective fear in your vibe, do you think they could have been kidnapped? Killed?” Jesse asks. Her voice betrays her worry.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Cisco says, rubbing his temples, “but we need to know what’s happening. Barry, any chance you could speed over there and check it out?”

“Of course,” Barry replies. He flashes away, changes into his suit, and returns, cowl up and ready. Hartley whistles and gives Barry a once over, and Barry does his best to ignore it.

“Just tell me where the bridge is,” Barry says.

“Deck 12,” Hartley answers. "Snart made us memorize the deck plans," he adds quickly when everyone looks at him. Len shrugs.

“Alright, be back _in a flash,”_ Barry says, and then he’s off.

“Does he always do that?” Hartley asks.

“Only when he hasn’t done it in a while,” Caitlin says.

~

The second Barry starts _really_ running, he realizes he’d forgotten how glorious it was. Barry flashes through crowds fast enough that he can phase _through_ the passengers, but not fast enough to fall through the floor to the other decks. When Barry runs, he becomes one with _speed_ itself, which gives him the perfect opportunity to slip away from reality and attempt to get ahead of his worries before they threaten to consume him. Unfortunately, his usual tactics _are futile today._

He phases through an ice sculpture that's sitting in the atrium of one of the restaurants, and just like that, Barry's mind is drawn to what Len had done to him the night before. _easily_ Barry had fallen apart in Len's arms so easily, and Barry had cried because he'd been so _happy_ not to worry about anything for a while. He'd thought maybe he really _had_ done the right thing. Len had made everything right, if only for a moment.

Naturally, Barry just wants to do the same for Len. Maybe Barry could take care of Len too. A part of Barry wants to see Len lost in a safe and fuzzy place, worrisome thoughts forgotten, just like—

Barry is thinking about this too much. He shakes his head, trying to force the thought to leave, and thankfully, he’s at his destination before his thoughts can spiral too much. Barry stops, content with concentrating on anything but Len’s wonderful hands.

~

“Snart?” Cisco asks.

“Yes?” Len replies.

“Did you or your crew have anything to do with this?” Cisco just has to make sure. They all do. He’s just asking what the rest of Team Flash is wondering.

“Now, Cisco, _think_ about that,” Len drawls, entertaining the question.

When Cisco still wears an expectant expression after a few seconds, Len fills in the blanks. "If I'd done something of this scale, I would lose my chance at the mask. To some degree, you should _know_ me by now. I’m a criminal. I steal things. I hurt people. But more importantly, I’m _selfish._ I _want_ that mask, and I will get it. But putting a stop to this ship’s course wouldn’t help me achieve that goal.”

Cisco thinks for a moment, and Len lets him, not adding any further commentary. He’s said enough.

“That’s fair,” Cisco says. "But what about the other Rogues?"

“They wouldn’t get away with it and they _know_ that.” Len whirs up the Cold Gun for dramatic effect. “I have them under control, they wouldn’t do it for fear of… dying a _cold_ death. Isn’t that right, Hartley?”

Hartley swallows and talks a little too quickly, all too aware of the Cold Gun so close to him. His voice is a squeak. “Yup, totally right, absolutely.”

Len powers down his gun. "See?"

Cisco isn’t convinced but lets it go for now.

"Just know Barry won't hesitate to send your lying ass back to jail if he finds out you're not telling us the truth," Wally says boldly, full confidence in his adopted brother.

“Understood,” Len says, nodding.

“Well, now that _that_ is settled, let's get to the real matter at hand." Cisco urges the others to come closer as he pulls up the comm link on his laptop. He turns up the volume and waits.

~

Barry clears his throat, "Alright guys, I'm on Deck 12, where's the bridge?"

“Front of the ship, bow side,” Hartley supplies.

Barry pauses, “Am I on speaker?”

“You bet,” Len says, and Barry can’t hide his chuckle.

He finds the door to the bridge easily after that and is grateful there’s no one to see him. There’s a sign that says _Bridge, Authorized Personnel Only,_ and Barry knows he’s in the right place. He makes his body buzz with quick vibrations, holds his hand up to the door, and places his palm flat against it. Once he’s matched his frequency with enough of the molecules in the door, Barry just vibrates a little bit more. Instantly, Barry’s hand falls through the wood. Barry smiles from deep in the Speedforce, and steps through, doing his best not to think about what would happen if he stills.

The door is in front of his face one second, then there's a fraction of time that's black, then Barry is _in_. He’s hoping that there’s going to be _someone_ who asks what he’s doing there, someone to ask how he isn’t supposed to be here, maybe yell at him why the _Flash_ of all people is on this part of the ship.

Unfortunately, none of those scenarios occur. Barry is alone in the bridge. He flashes around the area quickly, taking in the large amount of control panels, and paperwork that's laying around. _Checklists?_ He thinks and flashes through them to discover that all the bullet points and diagrams are just to keep track of all the navigational equipment and inner engine workings amongst other complicated electronics that Barry knows nothing about.

“No one’s here,” Barry says with a sigh. The sigh is echoed many times on the other end of the line. He places the paperwork down neatly.

“Did you check for clues at least?” The voice of Lisa Snart has joined the rest of them.

“Lisa?” Barry asks.

"Lenny texted the rest of us, Sam and the others are here now."

“And there is _not_ enough room,” Mick says gruffly.

“Did you check for clues?” Len says, repeating the statement a louder than before.

“Give me a second,” Barry says, being one of the few people in the world who can actually mean that literally.

Barry flashes around again, double checking, and looks at everything from a different angle. He imagines the empty bridge as a crime scene, and drops to the floor, looking across the ground. He sees a mug that’s fallen and slid into one of the corners. He flashes over to retrieve it. The mug—printed with a _Fate of the Seas_ logo on one side and the _Royalty Cruises_ insignia on the other—is cracked but not broken. There’s a small pool of coffee that’s half evaporated in the bottom of it that more resembles a slow-moving sludge rather than coffee.

“I found a mug. It’s been dropped and has some coffee in the bottom with the consistency of--" Barry pauses to find the right word. “--Snot," Barry rotates the mug, and the cold dregs follow the motion. “So it's been dropped recently in the last day," Barry says.

“That would be consistent with when the ship veered off course," Cisco supplies.

Barry continues to look for more clues. "If the crew fought back then this may have been done with malicious intent."

"Hey guys, I found a ship's log," Barry says, flashing over to the book and opening it up to peruse the latest entries. "I'm gonna read through it.”

The _Fate of the Seas_ Log turns out to be records for waste disposal, maintenance, engine temperature and other engine information and all of those statistics follow a consistent trajectory throughout the log. But what interests Barry most—and confirms his fears—is the navigational records. The last entry in the logbook is at 3 AM and confirms the ship had been on track for arrival at the Isle of Fate during the expected time frame.

“The ship seems to be running normally and undergoing regular maintenance on a scheduled basis according to these records.” Barry relays the information he gathered easily, “Unless the captain is lying in his own logbook, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the ship.”

"Well, that's good, at least," Mick's voice says from the other side of the comms.

"Cisco," Barry addresses the engineer directly. "The navigational logs end at 3 AM this morning. It's consistent with the Captain going missing and consistent with the rest of the navigational crew disappearing too. Entries before 3 AM had been recorded hourly.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone but us noticed? You’d think _someone_ would," Sam says.

“Whoever did this might just be really good at what they do,” Shawna answers.

"Or," Mick interjects. "That's part of the point. What if someone is _trying_ to turn the ship around, and the only way they can do that is to set us all adrift and wait for someone to find out and--" Mick pauses for a beat. "--Call the authorities."

"Well, we can't have that happen, now can we?" Sam says, "I didn't back down from my trip around Europe to board a ship that's just going to turn around."

“And I didn’t agree to go on this noisy metal boat for no reason either," Hartley says.

Barry sits down in one of the chairs that are bolted to the floor in the bridge and waits for the Rogues to quiet down. Sure enough, Len does that for him.

"Shut up, all of you," Len says, raising his voice. "This ship isn't turning around. I think we are all in agreement on that. Ramon? Snow? _Wells?_ ”

“Yeah, we’ve come too far to go back now,” Caitlin says. _And if we’ve put up with you for half a week, then we can do for another half,_ she adds silently.

Cisco says nothing, and neither does Harry. It’s pretty obvious to Len that Wally, Jesse, Eddie, and Iris are content with staying quiet, and it’s probably due to having more criminals than good guys in their _private_ stateroom at the moment.

“I agree, for what it’s worth,” Barry says. He’s spinning around in the swivel chair now, in tune with the gentle sway of the ship that Barry can only feel if he thinks about it.

Barry sighs. "Len, I think we need to make another deal."

“I’m listening,” Len replies immediately.

“Forget going separate directions until we get to the Isle," Barry begins. "We're gonna need to have a little more cooperation if we're going to get this ship sailing again _and_ find out who did this. We don’t want any more trouble, right?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Caitlin agrees.

“I’m with him,” Cisco says, “I think it’s our safest option. Between the sixteen of us, surely we can make sure this ship gets to the Isle of Fate.”

The other members of Team Flash either nod their heads in agreement or say a similar statement like those made by Caitlin and Cisco.

Len pauses before he speaks, no doubt contemplating Barry’s words.

"I'm in favor of working with you all," Len gestures to the members of Team Flash in the suite. "As long as the free for all on the Isle still stands."

"Sounds fine to me," Barry sighs. "Guys?"

"Yeah," Cisco agrees. "I'm still with you, Barry.”

Once again, the other members of Team Flash indicate that they're standing behind Barry's decision in this. Len notices that the decision is made by _all_ of Team Flash, not just Barry. Interesting.

Barry is suddenly back in the suite, crammed between Iris and Eddie, who startle when he appears. The speedster holds out his hand to Len. Len does his best to act unsurprised and takes it, shaking Barry's hand strongly.

"We have to get this ship moving again before someone else notices we’re drifting,” Barry says, taking the lead. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but does anyone know how to sail a ship?"

Hartley raises his hand instantly. "My parents made sure I knew how to sail the family’s yachts.”

“That’s not a _ship,_ though," Cisco objects.

“They were _super_ yachts. We did weekend excursions," Hartley argues. "Twenty guests were our _minimum_. My parents enjoyed keeping me occupied in the bridge learning to sail with the crew while they conversed with the guests." Cisco doesn't say anything else. Hartley has him beat on that one.

“Well, it looks like Rathaway is the _Fate of the Seas’_ new Captain,” Len says, trying to speed the process along.

“Captain Rathaway, I like the sound of that,” Hartley says proudly.

"Whoa, hang on," Barry says. "We aren't putting the fate of this ship in the hands of one criminal, are we?” Barry collectively gestures to the huddled Team Flash.

Iris finally speaks, “He’s easily the most qualified, but I don’t think he should be the _only_ one, and he can’t control it all by himself, right?”

"Yeah, there's still that ‘dual watch' thing that Cisco mentioned," Eddie adds, rattling off an excuse that's _half_ -valid. "We at least need someone to watch Hartley watch the ship.”

“And we’re sure no one else knows how to sail?” Wally asks, addressing both Team Flash _and_ the Rogues.

No one raises their hand immediately, but after a few beats, Cisco sighs and clears his throat.

“I do. I got bored in college, and after playing enough boating simulators to last a lifetime I decided to try the real thing. I was able to pass the boating license test on the first try. During one spring break I took a solo cruise along the coast to Keystone." Cisco admits quietly.

“You’re _not_ driving this ship with me," Hartley says even though he knows it’s too late.

“I don’t know, Captain Ramon has a good ring to it,” Cisco says.

“You mean _Co-Captain_ Ramon." Hartley crosses his arms.

“Then you’re _Co-Captain_ Rathaway,” Cisco retorts, crossing his own arms.

“Seems like you’re already warming up to the idea,” Len interjects and tries to push this conversation to it’s natural conclusion. "And it's fair that one from each of our--" Len pauses, trying to find the right word, " _\--Groups_ has a place in the bridge.”

“You can’t actually expect us to get along, right?” Cisco looks to Len, then to Barry.

Barry is the one who answers him, "I don't think you have much of a choice,"

"You'll get over it," Len adds. " _Eventually._ ”

Hartley grumbles but then lights up. "Actually, being locked in the bridge with Francisco sounds _wonderful._ ” He uncrosses his arms, and maneuvers through the small horde of humans and metahumans to get to Cisco. "We can pass the time by talking about our depressing childhoods, and our _feelings—”_

"Alright, that's it!" Cisco lightly shoves Hartley away, but it's more of an effort to get the other man away from him than start a fight. Cisco has no intention of doing _that,_ and Hartley thankfully knows it.

"Cisco, I'm kidding," Hartley holds out his hands in an effort to placate his soon-to-be co-captain. "Jokes aside, we have to get this ship moving. Between my brain and your brain, if us two _geniuses,” –_ and isn’t _that_ a compliment— “Can't figure it out then we have an even bigger problem to deal with. Let’s be real, back at S.T.A.R. we did work well together when we quit bickering.”

Cisco is so shocked that Hartley isn’t being a total dick that he actually thinks it might work. Plus, he _really_ needs to get to the mask. He could figure out a way to knock Hartley out when they port. At least then Team Flash would have one less Rogue to deal with.

When Cisco thinks it all through, sailing the _Fate of the Seas_ with Hartley might not be terrible, just… frustrating.

It’s enough.

"Alright," Cisco says. "Looks like we're going to have to brush up on our boating skills.”

Cisco dares to hold out his hand to Hartley, and Hartley dares to shake it.

"Just a warning, I'm a little rusty, but I learn quick." Hartley winks.

Cisco almost rolls his eyes, but ends up cracking a smile instead, because for the first time in a long time, Cisco doesn’t immediately resent the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about the _Costa Concordia_ , you can find more info [here](http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-16563562). As for the picture Cisco showed everyone, it looked something like [this](http://i4.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article5431825.ece/ALTERNATES/s1200/Costa-Concordia.jpg). Freaky, eh? 
> 
> The ship's logs that Barry looked through looked something like [these](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=7&ved=0ahUKEwi-mePq4KTRAhXJ5IMKHQyPA_QQFgguMAY&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.msq.qld.gov.au%2F-%2Fmedia%2FMSQInternet%2FMSQFiles%2FHome%2FRegistration%2Fship_diary_log_book_ed6_diary_table.pdf%3Fla%3Den&usg=AFQjCNHbGL4CFXaGuZgOr7gkNnoUqAD_xw&sig2=kEXy2sBCMjrB7C9ddiNYtQ&bvm=bv.142059868,d.amc). 
> 
> Alright, time for Wynter to explain herself. Remember those weekly updates? Well, they were met with two horrible words this semester: Organic and Chemistry. Traditionally this Fic has been a source of peace and whatnot, but when studying on a Friday night becomes a regular thing--believe me I'm not happy either--it's hard to add fanfic updating to that. Luckily, I still have several chapters in the works because this fic is my baby. I fully plan to update regularly, it just won't be on Fridays anymore. In addition, last week I had a minor mental break and everything in my life almost fell apart because Wynter was overcommitted IRL and needed to... take care of herself more. I am also so so sorry about keeping you waiting and not knowing what was up. I'll make it up to you in the coming chapters, I promise. 
> 
> _Tempting Fate_ has been outlined to its entirety, and I will see it through to the end, so hang with me, and we will both see where this story goes. 
> 
> Also, friendly reminder that yes, I know that realistically Team Flash and the Rogues are wayyyyy out of their element with cruise ship sailing. But they have powers, smarts, and badassery, so eh... let's walk the line a little.
> 
> <3 
> 
> -Wyn


	16. It's So Much Easier in GTA V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Love is a Drum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLEh0kS3rfQ) by Cider Sky and [Unstoppable](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xydf351l-gw) by The Score.
> 
> This chapter was originally much shorter. It got to be longer...
> 
> But because of that, we've got some quicker updates coming! Updates I'm really excited about!
> 
> But back to this chapter. Will Hartley and Cisco get the _Fate of the Seas_ moving again? Will Len and Barry talk about what happened last night?
> 
> Only one way to find out ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left happy kudos and wonderful comments! They make my day.

“You know, in Grand Theft Auto, all you have to do is press the left trigger on the controller and the ship just _goes,”_ Cisco says once Barry separately speeds Cisco and Hartley to the bridge.

“Xbox or Playstation,” Hartley immediately asks because of _course,_ Cisco plays video games. He’s too much of a pop culture nerd not to.

“Xbox,” Cisco answers, also a little put off that Hartley indulges in virtual crime in addition to real crime, though it makes sense once he thinks about it.

“Ah, you’re dead to me,” Hartley states with a glare that’s not serious at all.

“I’m going to haunt your ass so hard,” Cisco promises, smiling.

“That sounds _wonderful,”_ Hartley says and chuckles when Cisco’s face turns bright red. “Watch your words, Cisquito,” Hartley saves Cisco from replying by asking, “Did you ever buy any of the yachts?”

Cisco takes the bait quickly. “I saved up for the Galaxy and bought it, but it’s a shame you couldn’t drive it,” Cisco answers.

“I got my boat driving fix from stealing police boats, I was quite good at it for a while,” Hartley smirks, “the cops couldn’t catch me, but man did they try.”

Barry is sitting nearby staring at the two of them, suddenly wishing he played more than Nintendo games just to be able to _relate_ , but he would defend _The Legend of Zelda_ franchise until the day he died. “Hey, Co-Captains, less talking, more driving?” He says.

Cisco looks over at Barry. “Wow, alright then,” He turns to Hartley. “So uh, is there a manual, or…?”

“Checklists, actually,” Hartley grabs a pile of papers that’s sitting close to one of the many instrument panels, “all we have to do is follow these, and we can get back on course in no time.”

Barry’s phone dings from its recently-sewn pocket that Cisco had kindly added sometime before the cruise. The speedster pulls it out to see a single text from a contact that’s obviously Len. He’ll figure out how exactly Len had managed to get his number later.

_Smooth Criminal: Hey Scarlet, mind letting me join the party?_

_Smooth Criminal: That’s not a suggestion._

_Barry: Where are you?_

_Smooth Criminal: My room._

Barry sighs, “Len wants in, be right back.”

Sure enough, several seconds later, Len is standing there on the bridge with Hartley and Cisco. Barry supports Len while the older man’s nausea recedes.

“Geez, Barry,” Len says, able to stand on his own more easily now. “You couldn’t have gone a _little_ slower?”

“Good one,” Barry laughs and claps Len on the shoulder lightly. Len can’t tell whether Barry actually takes him seriously or not, though the latter is most likely. “When did you get my number?”

“A thief never tells his secrets,” Len answers with a smirk in his voice.

“That’s what _magicians_ say _.”_

“Your point?” Len challenges. “I _can_ make things disappear. Watches… jewelry… diamonds—”

“Okay, okay,” Barry interrupts. “I get it.”

But Len continues, much to Barry’s chagrin. “Hang on, Scarlet. Just think about it. I’d be a performer by day and a thief by night. My tagline could be _The Amazing Leonard Snart: Stealing Your Diamonds and Your Heart_.” Len suggests.

Cisco pretends to throw up in the background.

“Moving on!” Barry shouts a little louder than necessary and turns his attention to Cisco and Hartley. “Have we figured out what happened?”

“I have a good idea, yes,” Hartley supplies. “Big ships like _Fate of the Seas_ run off electrical motors that are powered by diesel. Without going into too much detail, it’s possible that those engines are just turned off—that seems to be what we are going with right now—and without the engines running, there’s no power to run anything else. Thankfully the rest of the ‘hotel functions’—such as lighting, toilets, and air conditioner—are powered by emergency generators, which is probably why no one else noticed there might be a problem.”

“So whoever did this killed the power and that’s why we’re floating?” Cisco clarifies.

“You’re right,” Hartley says, and Cisco is a little shocked that he would admit it under _any_ circumstance. “I’m crossing my fingers they just turned the engines off that supply the main power so that we don’t have to deal with electrical work.” Hartley shudders.

“You know some of us are _actually_ mechanical engineers,” Cisco says proudly.

“We would need an _electrical_ engineer,” Hartley retorts.

“I have built and wired so many things. _Like a particle accelerator—_ ” Cisco reminds him.

“— _that blew up_!” Hartley exclaims.

“ _That’s not the point!”_

“ _Then what is?_ I’m growing weary of your games, Cisco…” Hartley warns.

“Admit it. You know I’m the most qualified person in this room for potentially fixing this ship,” Cisco wants to hear him say it.

Hartley acquiesces nicely, “Fine, you are. I get it, okay? You’ll have _quite_ the party fixing the _Fate of the Seas._ ” Hartley states and then turns the tables, “Meanwhile, I get a promotion to captain while you’re away.”

“I wouldn’t be gone forever—”

Barry and Len cough in unison to get the two bickering scientists’ attention.

“How close are you to getting this thing moving?” Len says.

“If we can figure out how to start the engines and get the power back on, pretty close,” Hartley says, flipping through a checklist. Cisco is going through another.

“How many are there?” Barry asks, walking over to the dual-screen monitors that Hartley is currently seated in front of.

“Four,” the Piper answers, “and lucky for us, the people who built this ship made sure it had a lot of automation. I think we really do just have to get the engines up and running and we should be fine. _These_ screens,” Hartley glances to the list and then back to the screens, “appear to display the instrument readings. My parents had something similar but ours wasn’t nearly as fancy as this.”

Cisco walks over, and drops his own list close to Hartley’s, “Yeah, see, _here_ ,” Cisco points to the boxes that represent the engines, and traces along the lines that refer to the electrical pathways that relay the signals to the controls, “we can see which of the main engines and propulsion motors, along with a few other important pieces of machinery were affected by the power loss. Unfortunately for us, the answer is all of them.”

“And,” Hartley picks up where Cisco leaves off, “if I remember from all the reading material my parents made me keep up with, in order to get everything rolling—”

“—Sailing,” Cisco corrects.

“ _Driving,_ ” Hartley shoots Cisco a _look,_ “we need to start by finding the engine room and then go from there.”

“And do you know—” Cisco starts.

“It’s below the keel,” Hartley answers. “ _Barry,_ I think you and I might have to do some… _reconnaissance.”_

Barry doesn’t look excited at the idea, but it isn’t like he has a choice right now.

“Alright fine,” Barry says. “But you’re going to have to piggy back. I’m tired of flashing you all around bridal style. Plus, my arms are sore.”

Hartley makes to jump on Barry’s back, but Len stops him. “Piper, one thing. You too Cisco.”

“And what’s _that?”_ Cisco says.

“You both need uniforms.” Len states, “if you’re going to be out and about on this ship, as _co-captains,_ you should dress like them.”

“So what’s the story if we get stopped then, _Cold?”_ Cisco crosses his arms.

“The captain is training you,” Len says without a passing beat. “While he’s keeping an eye on the bridge, you all can go out and… meet the passengers.”

Hartley nods. It isn’t a bad plan.

“On smaller ships, it’s more common, but I know the bigger ones still try to do it.” Hartley rattles off. “But what will _you_ do, Snart? _Someone_ has to notice you aren’t the captain.”

“I’ll just conveniently be on the bridge doing something important every time someone tries to talk to me,” Len suggests. “And I’ll make announcements periodically to keep up the act.”

“Sounds convincing enough,” Cisco agrees. “For now at least.”

“Now, where are these uniforms you speak of?” Barry asks.

“Not sure,” Len says. “Hartley?”

“We can check the Captain’s quarters. He might have a few back there. If those don’t fit, I’m sure there are extras in the crew’s quarters. Barry might have to flash down there just to be safe.”

“Come get me if you find anyone.” Len orders. “I and the rest of my team can… take care of it.”

“Because _that_ isn’t illegal.” Cisco scoffs but doesn’t immediately disagree with him. Neither Barry nor Hartley do either.

“Okay,” Barry starts back up and points behind himself with a thumb, “I’m just gonna—”

“Just go, Barry,” Len says.

While the speedster hadn’t needed permission, he still flashes away right after.

“I can’t believe I’m about to put on a _real_ captain’s uniform.” Cisco plops down on a nearby swivel stool.

Hartley chuckles, “I can’t believe it either. Cisco Ramon not wearing an obnoxious nerdy t-shirt? This is a once in a lifetime occurrence.”

Cisco is imagining what it would be like to stab Hartley with a fork when Barry returns with two captain’s uniforms in hand.

“I went slowly so they wouldn’t catch on fire,” Barry announces. “I took a guess at the sizes since I forgot to ask you. I hope I didn’t offend anyone.”

Hartley and Cisco take the uniforms off Barry’s hands and thank him. Cisco starts walking in a direction that he hopes leads to—

“The bathroom is this way, Cisco,” Hartley sighs, feeling as if he’s a shepherd guiding an occasionally incompetent stray sheep.

Cisco turns on his heel and follows Hartley to the bathrooms leaving Len and Barry in temporary peace.

There are a few moments of silence before Barry breaks the ice that both of them had wanted to crack.

“So um… last night was awesome?” Barry’s voice betrays his lack of confidence, but Len still admires that he had the guts to bring it up first.

“I’m glad you thought so,” Len grins. “It was rather… fun.”

Barry takes a step forward. Len takes one back. Barry repeats the action, and Len responds in kind.

“You’re… kind of amazing, Len,” Barry says.

Len laughs. He doesn’t believe it, not for a second. Nevertheless he still thanks, Barry.

Suddenly, the speedster moves to crowd Len against some probably-important cruise ship equipment.

Then Len makes the second move and crashes their lips together. Len’s hands migrate to Barry’s waist to pull him closer, and Barry grounds himself by hanging onto Len’s broad shoulders, fully aware that he needs to breathe soon, but doesn’t care in the slightest.

Luckily, before Barry can get close to having his vision go gray at the edges, Len breaks the kiss and leans back—despite having such little space—and meets Barry’s darkened eyes.

Len pecks him on the lips, “Before you argue, just know that you don’t owe me anything for last night,” Len says.

“No,” Barry says quickly, remembering his earlier introspection, “I was thinking about it earlier, and I just…” Barry’s voice trails off briefly, “I just want to do the same for you. Even if it’s not _exactly_ the same as what you did for me.”

Len is actually touched but feels the need to further reinforce his earlier point, “You don’t have an obligation. Don’t make it one.”

“But really, I—”

“ _Barry,”_ Len says, tone deep, and Barry feels his stomach flip again, and his heart is beating _way_ faster than normal, can Len hear it? Barry can. It’s filling his ears, and it’s so _loud._

“Hmm?” Barry manages, voice much smaller than he wants it to be.

“It’s okay.” Len’s voice is still low, and it’s soothing, the rumble doing _something_ to Barry, “ _relax.”_

Barry relaxes.

“Good,” Len smiles, kissing the speedster again. Barry’s heartbeat calms slightly and his breathing evens out, “But if you still want to… reciprocate later—”

“—oh I do—” Barry interjects quickly.

“—then we can,” Len finishes simply, not swayed by Barry’s interruption.

“Okay,” Barry says.

“Fine,” Len adds.

“Perfect.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

“Shut up, Barry.” Len kisses him.

“You started it.” Barry defends against Len’s lips the best he can, but Len’s mind is already focused back on making out with Barry. His hand comes up to cup Barry’s neck, just to touch him more, to _connect_ with him more.

God, Len can’t _wait_ to get Barry out of that blasted suit and just _ravage_ him. With the way things are going now, with Barry’s fingernails running over Len’s scalp and Barry’s leg between Len’s own, it won’t be long. Provided Barry is up for it, of course.

Len tries to fight the urge to grind down onto Barry’s leg, but all of the sudden Barry pushes it up enough that Len can’t resist him anymore and just moves his hips down to increase that _glorious_ friction that he’s been craving for so long…

...only to hear a sound so loud that it nearly scares the pants off of Barry _and_ Len.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Barry shouts, flashing off Len immediately and taking his amazing legs with him. Len had just let out a particularly loud shriek and follows Barry’s lead by jumping off of the equipment.

Barry and Len simultaneously turn around and realize what had happened.

Barry is the first to speak, “Oh my god, did we just—”

“—Honk the ship’s horn while making out?”

Barry is cringing in advance. “Yes,  _that.”_

“Then yes, yes we did,” Len says, shock clear in his voice.

“You know,” says a sassy voice from the entryway to the bridge that can only belong to Hartley Rathaway. “Usually when people say that they want to blow your horn they don’t mean it _literally._ ”

“Hartley, _hello,”_ Len says through gritted teeth.

“Hello to you too, Snart.” Hartley bows.

“Did you see…” Barry starts but can’t finish.

“Oh _yes,_ we most certainly did _.”_ Hartley twirls his hand to emphasize his statement and smiles wickedly. “And Barry, I didn’t expect you to be so _dominant_.”

Barry’s face turns _bright_ red.

“Hartley!” Cisco lightly hits him with a newly uniformed elbow, finally having enough of Hartley’s sassiness for now.

“I actually _switch_ ,” Barry clarifies. “So don’t assume.”

Hartley throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever you say,” he says, ignoring Cisco’s one-night-while-you-are-sleeping-I’ll-take-an-icepick-to-your-temple look that’s only reserved for Hartley.

“Well, it looks like we are all ready to take a trip to the engine room,” Len distracts from the possibility of either Cisco or Hartley asking _him_ questions. He’s going to get secondhand embarrassment from Barry for a while after this. And Lisa is going to ask questions…

Hartley takes Barry’s cue and climbs onto the speedsters back.

“Nice uniforms, guys,” Barry says to Cisco and Hartley. Barry waits until Hartley opens his mouth and takes a breath to speak before purposefully cutting him off by flashing out of the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the _Fate of the Seas_ isn't making waves quite yet, but in the words of Hartley in this fic, he said something along the lines of, "If us two geniuses can't get this boat moving, then we have bigger problems."
> 
> Next chapter, they will actually get the ship moving, I promise :)
> 
> Clarifying note--because I just realized it's not common knowledge-- _Grand Theft Auto V_ is a video game centered around an online free roaming world in which you can do _almost_ anything. This usually results with lots of explosions and miscellaneous heists. Len would probably be a fan, put it that way. 
> 
> At some point in the game you can get high enough in level to purchase boats, which you can then drive forward by pressing the left trigger (though it depends on your controller layout) and moving the thumbsticks. So Cisco's first words in this chapter are referencing that. 
> 
> Furthermore, if you get _really_ high level you have the option to purchase a rather large super yacht, which is called the _Galaxy_. It's also super hella expensive and I had to go on YouTube to find a "tour" of it. Last I checked, this boat was undrivable meaning that all you could do was explore it once you got out on the water. There is a captain and theoretically you could kill the captain and steal the ship... but you still can't drive it. 
> 
> And speaking of driving vs. sailing... _sailing _a boat is when you have a sail and a mast etc, while _driving_ a boat is when you have a physical wheel. While the _Fate of the Seas_ is mainly controlled by a joystick (I'll get to that), there is still a typical captain's wheel that can be used in a state of emergency, so that's why Cisco and Hartley are driving the boat.__


	17. The Basement is Always Creepy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, you guys I'm so excited about this chapter and the next few! We've got surprises and a few twists and turns! And I'm thankfully not referring to the ship literally twisting and turning I promise.
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for your awesome kudos and continued commenting. Keeps me going and keeps me happy that I've written this crazy thing. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter is [Young London](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RaT4HL4nr0) by Angels and Airwaves. It captures the feel of this fic so well and I may or may not have listened to it on repeat while writing/editing this chapter...
> 
> Now, with that aside, LET'S GET THIS THING GOING!

Cisco is tapping his foot while he waits for Barry and Hartley to come back. He’s standing in a hallway, and doesn’t have much room to move because in either direction are open passenger areas. Sure, he could go and talk to people, move through the crowds and use the excuses Len had given him, but Cisco really isn’t in the mood. He just wants to eat cruise ship food and go to sleep.

Even more frustrating is that he’s currently sharing this scrap of hallway with Leonard Snart, who should be wearing anything but a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt with snowflakes on it. The contrast between Cisco’s uniform and Len’s oxymoronic cruise ship attire is _slightly_ annoying to Cisco. Why did Len get to wear a fun shirt while Cisco was stuck in a damn captain’s uniform?

Cisco crosses his arms.

Hartley and Barry return— _thank god—_ soon after that. Barry is out of breath, and Hartley is climbing off of the speedster as fast as he can, clearly not comfortable with his recent piggyback ride. The Piper’s hair is disheveled as he walks over to Cisco. He’s searching for his glasses and failing miserably. Cisco takes mercy on him, and finds them on the other man’s head in the middle of Hartley’s wind blown hair. He removes them and carefully places them in the correct position on Hartley’s head. Of course, Hartley still has to adjust them because it’s impossible for someone to place someone’s glasses on their head properly. Cisco had put up a valiant effort, though.

“The engine room is this way,” Barry says after flashing to his stateroom and changing into less conspicuous clothes. “There’s an access door that’s not too far of a walk from here.”

“Lead the way,” Hartley says, and Barry starts walking. Len catches up to the speedster, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

“Thoughts on the shirt, Scarlet?” Len asks, gesturing to the ridiculous fabric.

“I think you’re insufferable,” Barry replies, turning a corner.

Len puts a hand over his heart, mocking his feelings being hurt. “Barry! How could you?” But Len can’t hide his smirk, and Barry can’t hide his laugh. Before Len can think twice about it, he takes Barry’s hand in his own. He can’t look at the speedster, but if he did, he would see Barry blushing to his collarbones and unable to hide a smile. Barry doesn’t let go, and instead, squeezes Len’s hand.

Len squeezes back.

Cisco and Hartley aren’t walking in military levels of coordination per se, it’s just that they’re walking in time with the other, hands swaying at their sides, and trying to keep their heads down to avoid any of the passengers getting a good look at their faces while they walk through the many public areas. Their route is through mostly empty hallways, but some open spaces are impossible to avoid.

“I thought the walk would be shorter,” Cisco comments.

“I thought you’d know by now to be quiet because you’re drawing attention to us by _talking_ ,” Hartley shoots.

Cisco—too weary to retort back—just leaves Hartley hanging. He could have this one. Plus, Hartley isn’t wrong. The passengers are starting to stare at the lot of them and Cisco may or may not have put a hand on Hartley’s back to signal him to hurry the fuck up.

They make it to the stairs in one piece. No stops, to pauses, just… quickening their pace a little by the end of it.

Again, there is a big sign that says _Engine Room – Authorized Personnel Only._

Len, Hartley, and Cisco look at Barry, expectation on their faces.

“Oh no,” Barry meets the gaze of each, “I am _not_ phasing you all in there.”

“Why not?” Len asks, “It would leave the least trace of us behind, and we can’t draw attention to ourselves. Think of the mask, Barry…”

Barry seems to have a staring contest with Len for approximately 2.5 seconds before he lets out a groan and acquiesces. “Fine,” Barry tells them. He walks up to Cisco first.

“Oh man, this is going to be so cool,” Cisco says with a wide grin on his face.

“Close your eyes, don’t let go of me, and walk where I lead you,” Barry instructs. “And whatever you do, don’t stop moving.”

Cisco gulps but nods his head anyway.

When Barry phases him through, Cisco feels like his body is breaking apart at the edges and that he’s been turned into an oddly firm… puddle? A puddle that can still walk and hear. Speaking of hearing it’s so _silent_ and then it’s so _loud,_ and holy shit Hartley isn’t going to like this at all—

Then it’s over.

“You can open your eyes now, Cisco,” Barry laughs and takes Cisco’s hand—the one that’s covering his scrunched up and slightly terrified face—to place it back at the other man’s side.

It takes Cisco a few seconds to calm down, but once he does, he’s the incarnation of the word _excitement_.

“Oh my _god,_ man! That was so _cool!”_ Cisco is pacing the small area around Barry and putting his fists to the sky and then back to his sides in an irregular fashion. “Like, I never imagined it would be so loud and then so quiet at once—” Cisco fist pumps. “—it’s like, almost _exactly_ what it sounded like when Eobard—” Cisco’s arms fall to his sides when he realizes what he had just said. Barry eyes him carefully. “—oh god,” Cisco’s eyes glass over. Fortunately it’s not the type that Barry sees when Cisco is vibing, but his gaze is still too distant for Barry’s liking.

Barry rushes closer to him immediately.

“Cisco, are you okay?” Barry asks. He knows that Cisco isn’t, but Barry needs Cisco to _talk_ to him.

“Just, go get the others,” Cisco all but demands, not even looking at Barry.

Barry does, and Cisco takes a deep breath, shoving away the flashback as best as he can. They come less frequently these days, but whenever he gets over one of his triggers, another one _miraculously_ appears.

He rubs his temples and shakes his head a few times, and then its over. It has to be.

Barry returns with Hartley and Len, and Cisco is comforted slightly by knowing he’s not alone anymore.

“Let’s get to work!” Cisco shouts, and heads down the white metal stairs, trying to distract himself by fixing the problem at hand. The others follow without hesitation and Hartley quickly catches up to him and takes his co-captain role very seriously by staying close to Cisco at seemingly all times.

The engine room is vast and much larger than any of them could have imagined. It’s a large space, easily able to fit _multiple_ apartments inside of it, and then multiple floors of those apartments. There are twin rows of what can only be engines. On either side of the vast machinery are pathways no wider than three feet—and generally less than that—with white metal railings that stop at waist height. Some pathways are higher than others depending on which part of the engines needs to be accessed at the time.

The engines themselves are painted grey and the machinery that’s under the engines and on all of the walls is painted white. The room is bright, leaving few dark areas, and the floor is made of white linoleum tiles. Above them there are bars and tubes going every which way across the ceiling of the room, presumably to be either part of the ship’s structure or to carry vital liquids to the rest of ship or to the engine room itself.

The four would be lying if they say they aren’t in over their heads and very disoriented. Realizing that they have to turn on four of these _massive_ engines is honestly a little scary for all parties involved.

Barry automatically flashes around the expanse of the room—looking for ‘survivors’ no doubt—and to his immediate disappointment, finds no one.

“Deserted here too.” Barry says sadly.

“No one?” Cisco asks.

Barry shakes his head.

“Alright get yourselves together!” Hartley claps a few times, shaking the others out of their stunned and disappointed trance. “There’s a door at the end of this row, see?” Hartley points to the mentioned access point at the end of one of the engine rows. “That’s the door to the _other_ engine room because there are two of them. They’re separated so that if one of them say, _catches on fire_ ,” Hartley says the last few words a little louder than the rest because they’re a silent warning to Len to keep an eye on Mick, “—that all of the engines aren’t going to stop.”

“At least it looks like these are still intact,” Cisco says, gesturing to the engine rows.

“Well, the engines in _this_ room _look_ intact, Cisquito,” Hartley corrects. “We technically don’t know if they are.”

“I can check the other room right now?” Barry offers, phrasing it like a question rather than a statement.

“Just check to make sure it’s not on fire, no need to worry about anything else yet. One step at a time and all that, blah, blah, _blah,_ ” Hartley says wearily and waves Barry off.

Barry nyooms away and returns a second later. The tail of his shirt is slightly singed. He’d run too fast. Again.

“Dammit, I liked this shirt.” Barry huffs under his breath and then turns his attention to the others. “Good news, it’s not on fire!” Barry gives a thumbs up to Hartley, who doesn’t see it because he’s already walking over to another door and beckoning Cisco to follow him.

“Piper!” Len yells, and Hartley stops in his tracks and turns to face Len. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Engine control room, where _everything can actually be turned on,_ ” Hartley says, sarcasm and impatience heavy in his voice.

Len decides against arguing with him for being so damn disrespectful and heads to the control room with Barry.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When all of them get through the door—thanks to Barry and his phasing skills again—not a single person isn’t overwhelmed by the sheer amount of computer monitors in the room. There have to be dozens of them—mostly twin monitors—with functions that Barry, Len, and Cisco don’t have any idea about. Rows of computers fill the room with way too many swivel chairs—more than in the bridge—and again, the four take note that _there’s no one here._

Hartley recognizes maybe a third of what’s on the computers. He hadn’t been kidding earlier in the day when he’d said that his parent’s super yacht had been _much_ simpler. He’s attempting to make sense of all of this and it’s dizzying to even try.

Cisco walks up to a screen that seems to be a power monitor. It reads that all four engines are off and that the generators are on, meaning that Team Flash and the Rogues had been correct in their earlier assumption that whoever had done this _had_ cut the power when they turned off the engines.

“Guys, we were right,” Cisco points to the screen. “Cutting the engines _did_ cut the power.”

Hartley spots a manual that’s bigger than his head and its clearly the first volume of many.

Hartley is getting a headache.

Rapidly.

He flips through the book, trying to get _any_ data on the engines and his attempts and growing increasingly futile.

“Okay, on the simplest level, we need to get the power going. We do that by starting the engines to their first rpm setting,” Hartley turns the book around so they others can see it. “That will at least get all the main power systems back on. From there, we can shift them higher and start the Azipods—”

“And what exactly are _those?”_ Cisco interrupts, and he does it more out of curiosity than anything.

“It’s the name given to the propellers that make the ship _move,”_ Hartley explains. “They spin like any other propeller, but the whole unit can rotate which is how this massive metal ship can move in _any_ direction. It’s a beautiful feat of engineering, actually.”

“Back to the plan, Hartley,” Len tells him, doing his best to stop Cisco and Hartley’s bickering at all costs.

“Once we get the Azipods moving,” Hartley flips a few pages and points to a new section in the book. “Then we can get the _ship_ moving. I’m just praying that whoever did this didn’t fry the systems. The only problem is that I don’t have the slightest clue of how to do and of that.”

Hartley begins rummaging around in other manuals that are equally as thick as the one he’s got now, and motions the others to do the same. Barry flashes around, but decides he doesn’t know what to look for so he settles for picking up the manuals—Every. Single. One. Of. Them—and flipping through the pages at super speed. Len eyes him with a look that’s a cross between jealously and thankfulness. Len and Cisco are taking to the monitors and trying to decipher the images on the screens. They’re failing miserably.

Cisco, Hartley, Barry, and Len eventually reconvene in the center of the control room.

Hartley speaks first.

“I still don’t know the first thing about this,” Hartley says. “I only know one percent of what’s in those books, and it’s not enough,” Cisco doesn’t even make fun of him for admitting to being wrong, because Cisco _agrees._

 _“_ There are too many diagrams on the monitors, I couldn’t figure them out,” Cisco admits. “Len and I tried, we really did, but we couldn’t find—”

“—a single on/off switch, or any indication that one exists,” Len finishes.

“There’s just a bunch of buttons. At least the bridge has easy to follow checklists,” Cisco adds.

“Well, I wish I could say something a little more encouraging, but I read _all_ of the manuals and it was like reading another language that I don’t have a dictionary for,” Barry explains sadly.

Cisco notices the somber expressions on everyone else’s faces.

“We are _not_ about to give up!” Cisco shouts, catching the immediate attention of everyone in the room, “We’ve come all this way, and we only have three days to go. _Three days.”_ He stares at Hartley, “and I put on a _Captain’s Uniform_ for this! Do you know how much I hate this thing?” Cisco looks down at his clothes with disdain and stands up on a slightly raised platform in the floor.

“We’re going to _get_ up off of our asses,” Cisco looks and sounds like a politician trying to get the audience to vote for him. “Figure this out, and then we are going to get this ship on the road—”

“— _ocean,”_ Hartley corrects and Cisco glares but continues anyway.

“—and make it to the Isle of Fate where all of us can squabble over that damn mask! Fate seems to be shitting on us right now, but you know what I say? Fuck it! _Fuck it_ _all!_ Let’s _tempt_ Fate and its stupid whims and take everything it’s throwing at us with witty banter, superpowers, and even _a fucking cold gun that I still want back, Mister!”_

Len actually takes a step back, a rare occurrence.

“Well, _Cisco,_ where are we supposed to start then?” Hartley addresses Cisco head on, still holding one of the many thick manuals under his arm.

Cisco lowers his head a little. “I don’t actually know. I would say start pushing buttons and see what happens, but I’m an engineer and that would be stupid.”

“You can say that again,” Hartley says offhandedly. “Len and Barry, could you look under the tables? Maybe there’s a switch we’re missing?”

Len begins. “Yeah, we—”

Suddenly he’s tackled from _above_ , and not lightly either.

“What the—” Len starts again, trying to throw his attacker off to the best of his ability. He’d been caught off guard and what he can gather from his situation is that the person on his back—the one that is now screaming in a high-pitched tone—is a woman that _won’t get off of him._

Len starts tossing himself around as best he can in the hopes that he might shake her off. He’s also heading towards a wall with the intention of slamming her into it if she isn’t off of him by then.

Hartley, Barry, and Cisco part like the red sea because they’re sure that Len’s got this one. And really, he does.

Len makes it to the wall and the woman’s back crashes into it. Her screams are cut off due to the force of the hit and Len does it again, and again, and again, until she finally lets go of him. Len elbows her in the gut on her way down and she crumples to the ground before him, clutching her head and letting out noises of pain.

The others walk up as Len pulls out _a miniature cold gun_ from somewhere in his waistband and aims it directly at her.

“Len what the hell!” Barry shouts. “You made another one?”

“Now is _not_ the time, Barry!” Len snaps back, and whirs up the small weapon. It’s quieter than his main cold gun, but the whir is unmistakable and sends an unavoidable shudder down Barry’s spine. He’s been shot way too many times _not_ to have _some_ response to it.

Meanwhile, the woman on the ground has moved to clutching her abdomen, and now that she’s been subdued, the group can get a better look at her.

She looks like a doctor because she’s wearing a lab coat. She’s a redhead and her hair is styled into two short pigtails on either side of her head. She wears glasses with thick black frames and a red blouse that’s accompanied by a pair of black pants.

“ _So,_ who are you?” Len drawls, taking a few steps towards her and crouching down, balancing easily on his toes. Barry realizes he’s switched back into his Captain Cold persona and had forgotten how scary that could be.

The woman stops making pained sounds, straightens herself up a bit…

…and starts laughing maniacally. Len doesn’t really know what to do about that, but before he can threaten her further, she stops.

“Put down the damn gun and I’ll tell you,” she says.

Len leans down and lowers his voice. “Unless you want to have fourth degree frostbite on one of your limbs—and I would let you pick which one—you better start answering my questions.”

Alright, now _Cisco_ is having PTSD. He’s in that house, with his brother, and Dante is _screaming…_

Cisco walks away, and Hartley makes to grab his arm but misses. He ends up following Cisco anyway.

Meanwhile Len is having a staring contest with the woman who eventually drops her head in defeat with a chuckle.

“Harley,” she finally says to the ground.

“ _Full name,”_ Len orders.

Her face shoots up and her eyes meet Len’s quickly. “Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel! Geez,” She answers and there isn’t a trace of fear in her voice.

It’s unsettling.

“Alright, _Harley,”_ Len says, entirely unfazed. His voice is still low, and Barry remains slightly terrified, but happy that Len is doing his _thing_. If it could be called that. “We’re in a tight spot here. My _friends_ and I—” Len gestures to Barry and distantly to Hartley and Cisco who are deep in conversation. “—have a _rule._ No _witnesses,_ and _you,_ Harley, fall into that category.”

“Oh really?” Harley says, sitting up with too much confidence. Len holds his finger over the trigger a little more carefully, all too ready to fire it. “Well, I already know about your little plan to start this ship back up again. You’re up to something, and the authorities will figure it out eve—”

Len fires the mini cold gun at a spot in the wall next to her head. It’s a practiced shot, and not meant to hurt her.

“Oooh, cool,” She touches the cold spot next to her and flinches immediately, turning back to Len. “See what I did there? Cool?”

Len freezes the wall on the other side of her head and this one is a little bit closer. Close enough to have the effect Len is going for. Harley gulps and shuts up.

 _There we go,_ Len thinks, smirking.

“I don’t think you’re in the _position_ to mouth off to a man with a gun that can turn you into a human icicle without thinking twice,” Len says.

“Why not?” She retorts, shifting to a crouch and mirroring Len.“You’re not going to shoot me.”

Len is getting more pissed by the minute. “And why might _that_ be?”

Harley smiles and levels her gaze at Len.

“Because you need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well maybe I lied about getting the _Fate of the Seas_ going. These chapters keep getting longer because I just get so many more ideas! 
> 
> Also did you catch the title drop? I had to at least once. More will come later, but eh, it was jsut too perfect!
> 
> And oh my god this thing is novel length now? To that I just say oh no and laugh a little crazily.
> 
> Finally, Whoo! Yes! Finally, you guys got to see my favorite cameo in this fic! Well, unless other ones are needed. But for now, I'll be siding with the red-haired gymnyst :P 
> 
> I also apologize in advance for any Harley/Hartley typos. If you see any, _please_ let me know. 
> 
> I gave Harley natural red hair because the dip-dyed/split look wouldn't be socially acceptable in her position. And what is her position? And what the heck is she even doing here?
> 
> Also more wavehangers sorry not sorry...?
> 
> <3 you guys so much. Stay tuned!


	18. Avoid Suspicion by Doing the Obvious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos I got on the last chapter!!! I was overwhelmed by the response I got for adding Harley Quinn to this fic. She was a little bit of a gamble--I mean when is she _not_ a gamble--but it seems like it paid off, so thanks again for letting me know that it did ;P 
> 
> I'm also even more glad for all of that, because this chapter is all about what the fuck happened to Harley at 4 AM.
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [this awesome dubstep version of "Flight of the Bumblebee"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvdukXbzHPA) by TRNGL and [Why Worry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzqOZqE9yZw) by Set It Off.
> 
> Without further ado, let's find out just a little more about what's happening on the _Fate of the Seas_...

“Because you need me.”

_What?_

Len’s face twists into an expression of fury that threatens the calm mask of control he normally wears.

“Alright, start talking,” Len orders. “ _Now._ ”

“I will!” Harley yells impatiently. “But please, put the weapon down.”

Len hesitates—no doubt contemplating whether he should freeze her or listen to her—and ends up lowering his gun. He doesn’t go so far as to power it down, but he does remove his finger from the trigger.

“Much better,” she says happily and has the audacity to stand up and hold out her hand. “Harley Quinn, nice to meetchya!” She’s far too excited for Lens liking. He’s supposed to shake her hand but doesn’t, so Harley twirls her own to hide the awkwardness that would normally stem from that kind of rejection. “Alright then, round two. The name’s Harley, _not_ Dr. Quinzel. It’s been a while since I’ve been called _that_ , but you _did_ ask for my full name.”

“And you’re a doctor of _what_ exactly?” Len asks. At this point Hartley and Cisco return, obviously interested in what’s transpiring.

“Psychiatry,” she tells Len. He’s impressed but refuses to show it. _Calm mask. Calm mask. Calm mask._ “So don’t think I don’t notice the insufferable sexual tension in this room,” she eyes Len and Barry first and then Cisco and Hartley. When she’s done she laughs that unsettling laugh again. “You all are nothing if not severely fucked up and _incredibly_ obvious.”

_And you aren’t?_ Len questions silently and focuses on something else before he can say it again out loud. “Why did you stop practicing?”

She levels her gaze. “Do you really want to know?”

Len doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Harley sighs. “I was a psychiatrist assigned to an asylum in Arkham. Everyone was crazy and it was _my_ job to fix them. I loved it, until I made the mistake of trying to treat this one _maniac psychopathic asshole_ ,” her face abruptly flattens. “Have you ever heard of how charming psychopaths can be?”

The others nod.

“Well, it’s true. I started getting feelings for the maniac psychopathic asshole. Needless to say, I handed in my resignation and decided psychiatry was no longer for me. It was hard at first, but I knew I did the right thing and that got me through the worst of it,” the corners of her lips turn into a smile. “Shortly after I got my life back on track and settled what was going on up here,” Harley taps her temples twice. “I got a job offer to sail on cruise ships that voyaged far away from Arkham. They claimed my analytical skills would prove useful and they were right,” Harley bows her head as if she’d given a performance.

“Well thank you for the not-so-tragic backstory, but what are you now exactly?” Len says.

“You mean job placement or mental state or—”

“Job placement,” Len interrupts, voice cold. “You sound a lot like someone who’s stalling, so get to the point before I freeze your ass.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Harley steps forward and walks over to one of the tables housing a console. After twirling around gracefully, she leans back against it. “I’m a Quality Assurance Consultant,” She doesn’t expect them to understand and based on the expressions she’s getting, she’s right. “It’s my job to monitor and watch over the engines and operational systems. I know these engines backwards and forwards. A company called Argusila—they’re who’s responsible for sending me here—manufactures them. The important thing you need to take from this is that I work for Argusila, _not_ Royalty.”

Len still looks a little clueless, as does Barry and the others. Harley catches on.

“I guess I’ll have to walk you through it then.” She rolls her eyes, and the others can hear it in her voice. “I’m not on Royalty’s payroll which means my name isn’t on Royalty’s employee manifest. That manifest is the one I theorize the kidnappers are using to make sure they’re snatching the right people,” She grabs her tablet, unlocks it, and scrolls through the list of names that goes on and on and _on._ “I’m technically a passenger. I have a stateroom and a dining plan, so whoever kidnapped the engine crew didn’t go for me, even though I was here when everyone disappeared,” She pauses, letting the heroes and villains take it all in. _“_ And _that’s_ why you need me. _”_

Len gulps and Barry swallows from next to him. Both of them acknowledge that she knows too much, but she’s right. They do need her.

“Fuck it,” Len says and holds out his hand. “I’m Leonard Snart,” He forgoes his alias entirely and drops his villainous mask _slightly_. Harley shakes his hand and smiles.

“Barry Allen,” Barry introduces, following Len’s lead and shaking Harley’s hand as well.

“Hartley Rathaway,” Another shake.

“Cisco,” the engineer says wearily as he too shakes Harley’s hand. “Cisco Ramon.”

She turns to Hartley. “I like _your_ name,” she tells him, blatantly excited that ‘Hartley’ sounds so similar to ‘Harley’. “And are you two _actually_ captains?” Harley points suspiciously to Cisco and Hartley then giggles when their eyes go wide.

“We’ll get to that.” Len cuts in before Hartley or Cisco can answer in his place. “But first, tell us your story. After you’re done, we’ll tell you ours.”

Harley nods, and finally starts talking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Harley Quinn had been in the control room when it had happened._

_“You got it covered in here?” Clark, the Chief Engineer, asks her. She has a tablet in the crook of her arm and is scribbling away with a red stylus, filling out one of the many Quality Control forms she has to get through today._

_“Pretty sure I can handle this room for ten minutes,” She smiles._

_“Thanks, Harley. Be back soon,” Clark salutes her casually and she acknowledges the gesture with a salute of her own. He leaves the room after beckoning to the few engineers in the room to follow him._

_Harley takes a seat and spins around in the chair a few times before propping her feet up on part of a table that isn’t in the direct vicinity of any important equipment. She’s almost completed one QC form when one of the equipment screens starts beeping and flashing red. The alarm corresponds to the engine Clark had been running off to fix, so Harley dismisses it and gets back to writing._

_But then another system starts going critical and this one isn’t even remotely connected to the first. It’s corresponding to the engine farthest from the one that Clark’s working on. It would make sense if the Chief engineer had found another problem and had needed to fix that one too. But that’s a rare occurrence and Clark would have told—_

_Another engine’s monitor goes red and starts beeping._

_“Okay, seriously?” Harley exclaims to no one, rising from her chair and rushing over to the latest monitor that’s flashing crimson. She stares at the screen with wide eyes. When she finally focuses on what’s happening on the displays, she sees the rpms of the engines going_ down _. Harley runs as quickly as she can to the other consoles, only to witness the same result. It’s a mass deceleration on a large scale, and there’s no way it’s Clark’s fault. In all of her years working in Quality Assurance Consulting—and it’s seven, to be exact—she’s never seen such a sudden critical system failure happen so fast._

_Harley is further horrified when she sees another critical reading indicating the Azipods are slowing as well. If the Azipods lose power, that would mean that the ship—_

_“Oh god,” she breathes, desperately trying to remember all the important commands for this kind of situation: commands that cancel normal protocols, commands that cancel_ abnormal _protocols,_ commands that should stop this from happening. _But it’s not working. None of it is._

_The engines running the hotel functions are reading in the red zone now too, their beeping adding to the others and Harley can’t stop those engines from shutting down either, already seeing the generators warming up to take over the electrical load and praying they don’t die too._

_The steady, familiar rumble of the engines is growing quieter and quieter. Harley could probably walk into the engine room without needing ear protection and she’s not supposed to be able to do that until they dock at the Isle of Fate._

_She takes a look around, lifting her head in horror to see every screen in the red zone. There’s so much beeping that it’s dizzying. The main power to the Azipods is officially cut, the engines that run the hotel functions are entirely off and the only sound Harley can hear is the generators. As much as she wishes they were, the generators hadn’t been built to move the ship without extra assistance. Even if she could override the commands that shut everything down to channel all the power to the Azipods, Harley wouldn’t even be able to get_ one _of them spinning._

_Not to mention she couldn’t start_ any _engine and then leave the room to go up to the bridge. That’s the number one rule of being on_ any _engine crew._

_Well, besides don’t be a fucking idiot._

_“Goddamnit!” Harley shouts, finally slapping her hands down on the keyboard in front of her, frustrated that nothing is working. She’s been trained and trained and trained. And even with all that training, she’d still failed._

_Harley Quinn had failed._

_Clark is going to want to have a word with her, but she also wants to have a word with Clark. Harley leaves her tablet in the control room and exits, quickly jumping to clear the first rail that stands in her way to get to the engine Clark and the other engineers had run to._

_“Clark Kent! We need to—” She rounds a corner, only to find they aren’t there._

_And neither is anyone else._

_So Harley does what she knows best. She hops up on one of the railings and jumps towards the wall. She plants her foot and uses the friction to push upwards to gain further height. After a heart-stopping moment of being airborne, she grabs a support beam with the fingertips of one hand, but it’s enough. It always is. Harley swings forward and back a few times and when she finally has enough leverage, she flips up into the space above the pipes. It’s like threading a needle, and Harley_ loves _to sew. There are clearly some pipes that she should avoid up here: the small ones that would break from her weight, the ones surrounded with insulation because who knows what they’re insulating, but especially the steaming ones. Ouch._

_She does a quick survey of the engine room by staying close to the network of pipes at her feet and moving from one end of the room to the other. Up here she’s hoping she’s safely out of sight from whoever is responsible for this._

_To her surprise, she sees a few stray engineers that are—not unlike her a few moments ago—desperately trying to reverse the commands that had shut down the ship. One of them is banging their hand repeatedly on one of the readers—percussive maintenance—and is learning the hard way that their efforts are entirely useless._

_She’s trying to figure out a way to signal them when they disappear before her eyes in a blip. It had been like she’d blinked and then they were gone. But her eyes had been open and that would be impossible—_

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Len interrupts. “They _blipped_?” he says.

“Yes,” Harley confirms.

“We’re going to need a little more info.”

“It was silent,” she adds. “No screaming. I really thought I was hallucinating—it was 4 AM when this happened and I didn’t have much sleep—but it would have been a _very_ creative hallucination,” she appropriately yawns. “And they really were gone quick as a blink. No afterimage. Nothing left behind. Just… gone.”

“Could it be a meta?” Barry asks everyone.

“Maybe…” Cisco rubs his temples. “I would need time to figure out how their powers work. Presumably, they would have to be nearby to do something like that, but I’ve been wrong before. Harley are you sure you were alone?”

Harley sighs. “Unless someone was hiding under the engines—and that wouldn’t be advisable given how hot they were—then no. I had a bird’s eye view for a reason.”

“But what about the _other_ engine room?” Hartley points out. “Could someone have moved to the second engine room when you were climbing around?”

Harley thinks it through. “I suppose if they could see me, then they could be able to sneak by, because I couldn’t keep an eye on every nook and cranny the whole time.”

“Well, let’s assume that,” Barry says. “And could a meta freeze systems like that? And affect them all at once?”

“It wasn’t _all_ at once,” Harley corrects. “But by the end of it every one of them was in the red and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was like someone else had taken executive control of _every system_ and that’s almost impossible.”

“Almost,” Cisco shakes his head. “This whole thing is a shitshow.”

“You’re telling me,” Harley says.

Len clears his throat. “We can worry about possible metahumans later. Harley, continue?”

She gives a short giggle—as if she’s _excited_ by all of this—and continues.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_She claps a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as one by one the last of the remaining engineers disappear._

_After everyone’s gone and Harley’s alone, the alarms stop all at once. The silence should be peaceful, but instead it’s far too quiet and downright disturbing._

_It all catches up with her that the_ Fate of the Seas _is in the middle of the Atlantic without engine power and hundreds of miles away from the nearest port. Harley grows very, very scared and she’s unable to shove the fear down like she normally can._

_It’s too late/early to be dealing with this shit and she’s scrabbling for control of a situation that she doesn’t even understand. As much as she’s telling herself to calm down, it’s hard_ not _to be afraid when she’s the only person left in an empty engine room on a ship that is—holy shit— officially adrift…_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…So what does someone who’s alone and afraid of being mysteriously kidnapped do?” Harley asks rhetorically and then answers herself. “They hide in plain sight and start solving this mystery! Avoid suspicion by doing the obvious. It was pretty clear to me at that point that I couldn’t be down there anymore. I also needed to figure out where my damn crew went.”

Barry speaks up this time. “Why didn’t you call the cops? Not that it wasn’t a good decision _not_ to call them, but why?”

Harley looks directly into Barry’s soul. “Would _you_ want to be the one to make the call and say an _entire cruise ship_ stopped on _your watch_ and a vital part of the crew went missing for no apparent reason and you were _magically_ the only one left behind?” Harley waits a beat. “No one would believe me. What _was_ I supposed to do?

Barry doesn’t know what to say to that. He gulps.

Cisco helps her out, but doesn’t exactly answer the question. “I’m glad you found us.”

“Me too.” She says. “Even if my back is going to have a few bruises for the next few days.”

“Don’t forget your head,” Hartley reminds unnecessarily.

“Keep going, Harley,” Cisco tells her, trying to distract everyone from Hartley’s comment while simultaneously glaring at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_She hopes the ship can hang on for a few hours._

_Harley moves carefully back to the control room and flips down so she’s hanging upside down by her legs. They’re hooked around a sturdy pipe and she’s stalling just in case the person responsible for the kidnappings—because that’s what she’s calling them now—is hanging around._

_Fortunately, it’s only_ her _hanging around. Harley swings and lands quietly on the ground, executing a shoulder roll to distribute the impact. After grabbing her tablet, she heads to one of the main passenger decks as quick as humanly possible. The dispersal effect also works for humans and she has full intent of using it to blend in. They couldn’t find her if she was constantly surrounded by other people to distract._

_Then she gets to work._

_In the elevator she sheds the lab coat—to stow it away for later use in an artificial potted plant once she exits the elevator—and puts her hair up in two pigtails instead of the French braid she had it in before. She slips on the glasses she normally keeps in the front pocket of her lab coat as the final touch._

_She looks different enough that it just might work._

_The good news, she thinks, is that the few passengers who are awake at this hour don’t appear to notice anything is amiss. More importantly, the crew doesn’t notice either, which makes her job easier._

_Her job. The one she’d failed at doing._

_Harley shakes her head of the thought and pulls up the crew manifest on her tablet while silently thanking Argusila for negotiating her an access key. After copying and pasting the data into a new document, she carefully scrolls down the list until she spots the section for engine room employees. She crosses off every name under that category. With dismay, she notes that there are over a thousand employees on the_ Fate of the Seas _, which means that there’s no way she could confirm that they all haven’t been kidnapped, especially since she only has access to so many restricted areas on the ship and needs to return to the engine room at some point._

_She figures she can start by looking for any suspicious activity. It’s early enough that she might be able to spot something amiss in the few crowds that are around…_

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…My current theory is that they didn’t know about me because I’m not on the manifest,” she explains. “So as long as they didn’t see me when I was around for the whole thing, it’s possible they didn’t nab me because of it.”

“Or it doesn’t matter,” Cisco theorizes. “Even if they did see you it might not have been necessary to do anything about it if they were already getting their job done.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Barry encourages, gesturing to Cisco. “We were thinking that whoever is doing this is trying to turn the ship around.”

“Which is why they would eliminate the engine crew,” Harley finishes, catching Barry’s drift.

“And the bridge crew,” Cisco adds. “Seems like they went missing the same time the engine crew did.”

“That supports the theory even more. We need to keep an eye on this manifest,” Harley slaps the front screen of her tablet as if she _can’t_ break it by doing that. “But what _they_ don’t know is that _I’m_ a wild card,” She says proudly while raising her eyebrows.

“Is it because you’re totally bonkers?” Hartley snarks, twirling his index fingers next to his temples. Cisco elbows him.

However, Harley doesn’t seem too upset with the accusation. “Something like that,” Harley stares at Hartley and when she feels he’s squirmed enough she shifts her attention to Len and Barry _._ “I’ll explain later. Just trust me. I meant it when I said you needed me.”

“Just keep talking,” Len urges.

Harley complies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Harley thanks the stars that she remembers enough of her psychiatric training to be able to properly psychoanalyze people._

_She stands up, opens a notebook document and starts walking around, taking notes on what she’s seeing while trying not to be conspicuous. There’s a couple that she’s sure is about to get divorced, a kid currently wearing on their parents’ patience, and a few crew members who are probably fucking each other in supply closets…_

_The usual._

_Harley moves to an outdoor deck and while the sun hasn’t risen just yet, the sky is still a pretty cotton candy pink that transitions to blue. Early morning skies always remind her of either a nice watercolor painting or a pre-installed desktop background._

_Today is a desktop background kind of day. How lovely._

_There are a few people lounging in one of the Jacuzzis and others in the main pool. There’s no one suspicious here, just a redheaded bartender that is way too cute._

_Harley decides she can take a detour. There’s also nothing that’s saying the woman can’t help Harley in her investigation._

_Plus, Harley really needs a drink._

_She locks her tablet and takes a seat at the bar, all too aware she’s dressed too nicely for the current venue._

_“And what are you dressed up all pretty for?” The bartender asks, voice sweet and really, really nice to listen to._

_Yeah, Harley is definitely into her._

_“My boss sent me on a ‘special’ mission,” Harley tells her, adding the appropriate air quotes._

_“To the bar by a pool?” The woman asks skeptically._

_Harley nods and winks when she’s done. “To have whatever is your favorite.”_

_The bartender winks back, “Do you like melons?”_

_“Do your worst,” Harley says._

_The bartender is a flurry of motion after that, blending and pouring until she can place the final product in front of Harley: an icy drink that’s garnished with an ivy leaf. The drink itself is green and topped with a dark substance that Harley can only assume is something akin to chocolate syrup. It’s swirling down the glass as Harley stares at it._

_“Is the leaf real?” Harley asks, picking up—_

~~~~~~~~~~

Len gets Harley’s attention, waving his hand in front of her face. “What does flirting with a bartender have to do with anything?” He inquires impatiently.

“Calm down! I’m getting to it,” Harley smiles and keeps talking.

~~~~~~~~~~~

_“It’s a Poison Ivy,” the bartender says. “My own recipe.”_

_Harley takes a sip and nearly sucks it all down. “Well, it’s delicious,” she’s enjoying the drink but knows she has to get back to her investigation. Carefully, she looks at the bartender’s eyes, and sees a flicker of interest._

_Perfect._

_“Can you help me with something?”_

_“Depends,” the bartender crosses her arms, but her voice isn’t serious._

_Bingo._

_“Have you seen anyone who,” Harley gestures to the pool deck. “Looks a little out of place?”_

_The bartender looks around quizzically. Harley is praying this redhead’s attention to detail in drinks translates to other parts of life._

_Luckily, it does._

_“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘out of place’ per se, but maybe in the wrong part of the ship? There are two people who look like they’re supposed to be in the bridge over there.”_

_Harley catches sight of them and notices the two men are walking oddly in sync with each other and their steps are very robot-like…_

_Anxiety._

Perfect _, Harley thinks. “Thanks so much!” Harley slaps down a twenty, and before she can think twice, kisses the bartender on the cheek._

_She chases after the two uniformed men, cursing because she’d forgotten to ask the bartender for her name._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And that brings us to right about now. I followed you both—” she gestures to Cisco and Hartley who are slightly horrified that they had been _that_ obvious. “—and tried to figure out what Leonard and Bartholomew—”

“—It’s _Barry,_ please,” Barry says, cringing at the mention of his full name.

Len follows in Barry’s wake. “—It’s about time I tell you to call me Len too—”

“—Were up to,” Harley continues. “And when I figured out you all were headed to the engine room, well, I was a little more careful in following you. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but attacking _Len_ over here seemed like the best option at the time,” Harley concludes with a hint of regret in her voice. “Although, just wondering, are the rest of you armed?”

Barry, Hartley, and Cisco all shake their heads.

“Well that was dumb on my part, jumping onto the one person in the group with a weapon,” Harley pauses. “I should have jumped down on lanky boy over here.” She gestures to Barry elaborately.

Barry laughs. “That wouldn’t have worked.”

“And why not?” Harley challenges.

“Barry…” Cisco warns, knowing what Barry’s thinking and not liking it at all.

“Ooooh, now I have to know!” Harley claps.

Barry rolls his eyes in jest. “Pick an ice cream flavor.”

“Pistachio!” Harley grins.

Barry flashes away as quick as he can—his shirt is already singed—and returns with a pistachio ice cream cone for Harley. She takes it excitedly. Cisco exhales violently.

“Well,” She says. “That explains the speed reading I saw earlier.”

Barry shrugs, only a _little_ smug. “Well, I am the fastest man alive.”

Cisco coughs. “Only because all the competition is dead,” Cisco coughs again.

Barry shoots Cisco an _eat-shit-and-die_ look, but it’s brief.

“We were going to have to tell her anyway,” Barry says to a still pissed off Cisco.

“You mean you were planning on telling her _everything?”_ Cisco asks, incredulous. He’d thought they were going to tell her the _not-_ supernatural version.

“If she’s going to help us get the ship going—” Barry begins.

“—Which I am,” She supplies.

“—Then she’s going to have to know everything,” Barry concludes. “And with a possible meta involved, it’s kind of important that we keep her in the know for her own safety.”

“Are you _sure_ that’s wise, Scarlet?” Len says, taking Cisco’s side. “What if she’s lying?”

“Then you can ice her like you’ve always wanted to,” Barry sees Harley _slightly_ cringe in the periphery of his vision. “Cisco? You want to tell it?”

Cisco takes a moment—no doubt considering how to play off recent events with a rational explanation—but ultimately acquiesces.

“Fine,” Cisco turns to Harley, “So I get these things called _vibes…”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And both of you all’s little gangs are fighting over the Mask of Fate?” The group nods to confirm Harley’s statement. “But you’re currently in cahoots to get the ship to the island?”

“Bingo,” Len says.

“That sounds complicated.”

“ _It is,”_ says everyone else.

“And are all of you metas?” Harley asks.

“Are you?” Len counters, quirking a brow.

Harley laughs. “No, silly! I live in New York City and was _luckily_ hundreds of miles away from Central City when that fancy particle accelerator went boom,” she mimes an explosion with her hands. “Now, back to where I was before… obviously Barry and Cisco have powers, but what about _you_ two?” She points at Len and Hartley.

Hartley sighs. “I have superhuman hearing and it _sucks._ ”

“I made him special ear buds to help, though,” Cisco points out.

“ _That_ part is awesome _,_ ” Hartley happily praises him.

Len deems then the time to answer. “I don’t have powers,” he admits. “That’s why I have the cold gun.”

“Which I also made,” Cisco says through gritted teeth, a ghost of his old grudge.

“Not _this_ one,” Len waves the mini cold gun in Cisco’s direction but never points it at him.

“I was referring to the main one. You know, the one you stole?” Cisco rants. “Or maybe the one you blackmailed me into making after kidnapping me? The one that—”

“Be quiet you two! If you’re going to work together you can’t fight about stuff,” Harley reasons. Cisco and Len nod reluctantly, knowing their bickering is childish even if their issues are very serious. “Good. Now, without further ado, I’m going to get this show on the road. If anyone wishes to oppose me, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Harley waits a few seconds and when no one objects, pushes off of the desk and heads for the nearest computer.

“What can we do?” Barry asks her.

“Nothing,” she states simply. “You all _clearly_ don’t know the first thing about cruise ship engines,” Harley rolls her eyes and begins typing on one of the computers. After she’s sufficiently satisfied with its performance, she moves to another, abruptly doing a fist pump after entering in several commands. “Yes! The systems are responsive again! Now that someone or _something_ isn’t messing with the computers, I can mean it when I say that I’ve got _everything_ under control!”

“You can’t run this whole place by yourself,” Cisco pipes up. “That’s impossible.”

“If anyone should know what’s impossible and what’s not, I would think you’d fall into that category, Cisco. And for the record, I actually _can_ ,” Harley says proudly, flipping switches on a board while watching the readouts of another. “I’ve done it once—it was for like an hour but it counts—so there’s no reason I can’t do it again.”

“That’s… impressive,” Len finally says.

Harley gives a small bow. “We also don’t have much of a choice a _nd_ if there’s a problem, I’ll just call the speedster over here,” Harley says, and whips out her phone when she takes a break from typing in commands. Barry puts his number in it and returns it to her. She then walks out the door, gesturing for the others to follow. They do.

Then she hops up on one of the railings, balancing easily.

“Watch,” she says to make sure she has their attention and then takes off.

Sure, she’d told them about her abilities in her retelling of the engine room crew disappearing, but actually seeing it in person is breathtaking.

Harley is doing literal parkour in the engine room and there’s no way it’s safe with the way she’s performing moves and the speed with which she’s executing them. Nevertheless, she’s dropping down and checking numbers on screens and equipment readers, only to jump back up again and drop down somewhere else. It’s unconventional but undeniably efficient.

Team Flash and the Rogues might not be so screwed after all.

Harley does a perfect flip off of a pipe in front of the four and sticks the landing.

“Holy shit,” Cisco says quietly.

Before anyone can ask how she’s able to do any of this, Harley’s giving orders. “You all should get earplugs, or earmuffs, now,” she demands, but then realizes she’d missed an important detail. “On second thought, we’re going to need someone in the bridge to orient the Azipods. I assume that’s _Hartley_ and Cisco’s job?”

The aforementioned nod.

“Well, you all can head up there. I’ll take it from here,” The four are still stunned at what they’ve seen and she takes pity on them. “I was a gymnast, okay? I practiced hard because my instructor was hot and now I’m good at what I do,” She ignores the looks of awe on the four’s faces and keeps talking quickly. “Again, I’ll call if there’s a problem, but we’ll be fine, especially once I get everything up and running which should be…” Harley runs a few calculations in her head, miming doing the math in the space in front of her. “…About twenty or so minutes from now, so get moving!” She makes shooing motions before any of the others can utter so much as a thank you.

They’ll find other ways.

As for Harley, she puts on a pair of red and black earmuffs and gets to work.


	19. Starting the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Intercom Noises* Hello, hello, hello to all my lovely readers! If you celebrate Easter, happy Easter! If you don't, happy Sunday and have an update anyways :D 
> 
> This time around, Cisco's hype playlist includes [Let the Games Begin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7o3LR1WN8E) by AJR. 
> 
> Heads up: Hartley has a flashback to good ol' Wellsobard being a major dick. Song for this one is [my favorite cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zImgppnDvCs) of "Mean" by Taylor Swift. 
> 
> <3

“Do you two think you know enough of what you’re doing to take it from here?” Len asks Cisco and Hartley once the four have made it safely back to the bridge. Len pushes off from the table he’d been sitting on and meets eyes with Hartley, who along with Cisco, is sitting in a captain’s chair. The Piper looks to his Co-Captain nervously and Cisco swallows under Hartley and Len’s combined gaze.

Hartley musters up as much confidence as he can. “We’ll figure it out, just like everything else we’ve done in science, right, Cisco?” he says, urging the other man to go with it.

“Yeah, right,” Cisco weakly agrees, his voice a little too absent for Len’s liking. He turns to Hartley and lowers his voice. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

Hartley nods. “We don’t have a choice.”

Cisco takes a deep breath and embraces the situation for everything it’s worth. “Let’s get this party started!” Cisco exclaims excitedly as his dramatic side takes over. He reaches for a microphone to call the engine room. “Paging Dr. Quinn!”

“ _Hello?”_ Harley’s voice sounds from the other end of the line.

“We’re ready to get the ship moving. Are you all clear to fire up the Azipods?” Cisco asks her, glancing to the others for any sign of disapproval and finding none.

“ _As long as you know what to do with them!”_ her voice crackles from the other end of the line.

“Then let’s do this!” Cisco yells, and Harley lets out a ‘whoop’ that the four can hardly hear.

Cisco puts the mic down and moves to go sit on the other end of the bridge, double checking everything on every list he can find to make sure the rest of the systems have a chance of running smoothly once the power is restored.

“I can’t believe we got ourselves into this,” Hartley says from next to him, voice incredulous while he secretly double checks Cisco’s double checks without the other man noticing. “In all seriousness, Cisco, I haven’t the slightest clue of what I’m doing,” Hartley admits.

“Neither do I,” Cisco’s eyes dart in Barry and Len’s direction. “But neither would anyone else on either of our teams.”

“At least we know we have the best boat driving experience possible,” Hartley’s trying to make light of it despite his near crushing anxiety at this point—because wrecking the _Fate of the Seas_ isn’t something Hartley wants to add to the public’s opinion of him—and sees that Cisco’s taking the bait and lightening up too.

“You’re not wrong. It is going to be hard to top driving one of the biggest cruise liners in the word. Putting the _Fate of the Seas_ on your resume would probably turn some heads.”

“Too bad no one can actually know,” Hartley tells him, chuckling in response to stay light, but Cisco had mentioned Hartley’s resume and _that_ triggers something he’s tried so hard to forget.

_No, not right now, I don’t want to remember that now,_ Hartley thinks, but it’s already too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“Hartley, Hartley,_ Hartley, _” Dr. Harrison Wells tells a very nervous Mr. Rathaway, who’s doing everything in his power to hold back the shakes that are threatening to take him over. He sits in a chair opposite to Harrison with only the other man’s desk between them. Harrison shakes his head and Hartley feels so small at the implied disappointment. “I thought you trusted me.”_

_“I…” Hartley starts, but he and Harrison both know he can’t finish that sentence, because Hartley doesn’t trust him anymore._

_Harrison shakes his head again and pulls out a small stack of papers. Hartley instantly recognizes it and his throat sinks to his stomach._

_“Do you know what this is?” Harrison asks, holding up the document._

_“My…my resume,” Hartley answers. He can’t_ not _answer him. Not after everything they’ve been through._

_“Good,” Harrison says, and Hartley is ashamed at how he glows from that small amount of praise, even knowing it’s going to be the last time. Harrison flips forward a few pages. “Hmmm, interesting.” He pretends to look at the document quizzically, eyes peering over his glasses. “It says here you worked at S.T.A.R. Labs.” He meets eyes with Hartley. “That’s not right, must be some mistake.”_

_Hartley refuses to cry. He will not cry._

_But Harrison continues and it gets so much worse._

_“You also worked at another lab, during your undergraduate years.” Harrison starts rummaging for something in his desk absently, eyes still on the pages of Hartley’s life. “Oh my, lots of experience working with homeless shelters and food banks.” Harrison looks up at him. “That’s an impressive amount of volunteer work.” Hartley’s vision is blurring. “Although all those hours seem incorrect, unrealistic,_ fake.”

_Hartley can’t look at him anymore. It hurts too much. All of this does. So he stands up, and makes for the door._

_“Hartley, stop,” Harrison says. “I’m not quite done yet.”_

_“But this is downright unfair!” Hartley turns around and yells, throwing up his hands in the air. “You already fired me and now you’re just messing with my head!”_

_“Unfair?” Harrison stands up, places his hands on his desk, and leans forward. While he knows Harrison wouldn’t dare hurt him, he’s grateful the desk is between them. It’s a comfort and it’s all he’s got. “Mr. Rathaway, you tried to ruin me, to stop progress in science—”_

_“I tried to save the city!”_

_“_ Don’t _interrupt me,” Harrison almost growls and sits down, face suddenly, eerily calm. “Now, sit back down.” Harrison gestures to the seat in front of the desk._

_Against his better judgment, Hartley sits, wondering why he even came back here in the first place. He should have ignored the email, the phone call, the texts…_

_“I’ll save the rest of my speech,” Harrison picks up the object he’d been searching for: a lighter. He ignites the wick easily, with practice, and gently holds the flame close to the stapled pages. “I told you that you’d burn if you tried to tell anyone about your ‘theories’ concerning the particle accelerator.”_

_He sets fire to it and Hartley crosses his fingers it’s just symbolic. He prays that it’s just symbolic._

_It’s not._

_“I’ve already gone ahead and sent messages to all the major labs and universities and any other institutions where your skillset would be coveted to never hire you for reasons you’ll never find out,” Harrison continues, speaking as if he’s ordering food, not describing how he’s actively ruining Hartley’s scientific career. “Feel free to try and volunteer, but they’ve been informed that you tried to fake extended hours to get ahead in other positions and that’s just not the kind of person they’re looking for, is it? Have fun teaching, Mr. Rathaway,” Harrison says, voice flat, sinister, and nothing like the comforting and occasionally stern voice Hartley knows._

_Hartley can’t take his eyes off the flames. Harrison drops what’s left of his resume onto his glass desk and together they watch it burn. When it’s only ashes, Hartley’s eyes are wet and cloudy, tears dripping despite his best efforts._

_“Now get out,” Harrison demands. “I never want to see you again.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~

From somewhere beyond the void of reality, Cisco’s voice sounds, dragging Hartley out of his flashback and back to the present.

“It will be our little secret then. Between you and me,” Cisco says, implying that driving the _Fate of the Seas_ will be something Cisco and Hartley want to reminisce about down the road. But then he’s looking at Hartley quizzically, noticing something’s off about the other man, but chooses not to say anything about it. Hartley wouldn’t talk about it unless there was an obscene amount of alcohol involved. At this point, Hartley can’t even open his mouth to speak, but thankfully it seems the conversation is already focused on someone else.

Len clears his throat. “And the rest of the Rogues.”

“And Team Flash,” Barry adds.

Hartley vaguely listens and catches onto the banter. Snarkiness helps with getting over his troubles, he’ll admit. It always has in the past. So Hartley does what he does best to get the ball rolling.

He throws an insult.

“Okay we get the idea, smartasses,” Hartley looks to Len and the older man knows what’s coming. “And _Snart_ asses.”

Len looks pleased and is about to open his mouth to tell Hartley he’s proud of the pun when Hartley cuts him off.

“I’ll admit your punny ways have gotten to me,” Hartley says. “Now, can we get back to the matter at hand? Watch the door. We can’t have anyone dropping in right now.”

Len gives Hartley a glare, since telling Len what to do might have been a dangerous breach of protocol, but it’s more a gentle warning than anything. Hartley will still answer to Len when the older man needs him to. Len walks over to the door, and returns to his former position as official Flash/Rogues team-up sentry.

It’s quiet, and it’s a kind of awkward quiet, until Cisco lets out a whoop and then suddenly pumps his fist from his chair and spins around in a circle, “Yes! Oh _yes!_ ”

“What is it, Cisquito?” Hartley yells.

Cisco points to the twin navigational monitors and the notebooks sitting below them. There’s a folded up map wedged under one of the monitors, presumably for emergency navigation that doesn’t require technology “It looks like good ol’ Captain what’s-his-face took such detailed navigational notes that as long as we double check everything and stay on the track that’s advised we will reach the _Isle of Fate_ as scheduled!”

Hartley breathes out a sigh of relief. Doing math with Cisco hadn’t always been the most pleasant experience at S.T.A.R. Labs.

Cisco’s enthusiasm drops. “It does look like the maximum speed we can go is 22 knots,” he sighs.

“That’s only—” Barry does the mental math. “—twenty-five miles an hour,” he calculates. “I didn’t know ships were so slow.”

“To be fair this ship weighs in at almost 168,000 tons _,”_ Cisco defends. “So the fact that humanity has not only made something to control that much weight but to make it move is a feat in and of itself.”

“It’s still slow,” Barry repeats.

Len scoffs. “Says the speedster. _Of course_ you think it’s slow.”

Barry whacks him lightly. Len doesn’t retaliate. There will be time for that later.

“Well, lucky for us.” Cisco points to the GPS data he’d remotely pulled up on his computer earlier. “The ship was cruising at sixteen knots before the engines shut off. We’ll be back on schedule by the end of the day if we cruise at 22 knots, but we’ll have to slow down to conserve fuel and not overwork the engines. Then we would really be stranded.”

“Well, if worst comes to worst, I can always ask Mardon to make some waves,” Len offers with a smirk.

Cisco and Barry hold back laughs and then look at each other to hold a silent conversation. Despite the joking manner with which the idea had been suggested, it hadn’t been a bad one.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Cisco says.

The intercom suddenly rings like a phone. Cisco answers it carefully after he’s confirmed it’s coming from the engine room and not anywhere else, because if it’s from the latter, things will get bad _fast._

“Hey Harley!” Cisco answers, ever-spinning in his chair. “What’s up?”

“ _Get someone on the Azipod controls,”_ she commands. Cisco looks to Hartley who is already headed towards the five spherical controllers that move and rotate the Azipods up to 360˚. He gives Cisco a thumbs-up to indicate that he’s ready and Cisco relays the information to Harley.

“ _Good, I’m going to turn them on now. Don’t go crazy, just take it easy_.” There are sounds of a low rumble increasing now in the background of Harley’s line. _“I’m glad we’re out in open water and not in port, because lord knows you two would probably suck at docking.”_

Cisco and Hartley look offended before they simultaneously connect the dots and realize that she’s right.

_“Alright, call if you have problems. You’re good to go for now. Good luck, Gentlemen! Harley over and out.”_ The line goes dead after Cisco confirms they’ve all heard her instructions.

Hartley moves to line up the Azipods via their controls until he realizes each spherical steering mechanism is already in the proper orientation. “Whoever took the bridge crew didn’t bother scrambling the controls,” Hartley points out.

“I mean, logically, if they were planning on kidnapping the engine crew and then relying on someone to call the authorities, then they wouldn’t need to,” Barry adds.

“Still weird,” Hartley says. “This—”

“Guys you need to get over here. _Now,”_ Cisco interjects, ushering the others to look out the front window. With a grin, Cisco sees that the ocean is moving past them a little faster than before and knows the others are seeing the same. “Gentlemen we are moving!” Cisco shouts and starts clapping. Hartley claps with him, and Barry and Len join in.

_Thank god,_ Cisco thinks.

“Where’s the intercom? I think it’s time we made an announcement,” Len says.

“Here,” Hartley calls Len over to where the main cruise ship intercom system can be accessed. “What are you going to—”

Len grabs the microphone. “Hello, hello, _hello_ to all the lovely passengers on the _Fate of the Seas_. This is your captain speaking,” Len drawls into the microphone.

“Why do you get to be the captain?” Barry hisses. Cisco and Hartley both silently ask the same question given that they’re the ones who are driving the ship.

Len stares at Barry with a devilish smirk, focusing on him for the moment.

“Really, Barry?” Len asks. “ _Think_ about who I am… the various _names_ I’ve been called…”

He waits.

Len watches as Barry’s face shifts from complete confusion to sudden realization and finally, to a glare that Len knows well. It’s the glare that Barry gives Len whenever Len makes a really _bad_ pun.

_Captain_ Cold smiles.

“I swear I hate you sometimes,” Barry says.

“Likewise,” Len says then turns back to the microphone. “Some of you may have noticed we slowed in our course to the Isle of Fate earlier this morning. We apologize for any inconveniences this may have caused and will arrive at our destination as scheduled. Thank you,” Len concludes and lets go of the microphone.

After a few seconds have passed to ensure the microphone is truly off, Cisco blurts out, “Why did you have to make that announcement? Hartley and I could have done it just as easily!”

“Because I’m already the stand in for our missing Captain and have to start making announcements at some point. Plus, it’s easy for me to talk to big crowds so I’m the natural choice,” Len supplies easily and starts dropping bullshit excuses. “I’m good with people, calm under pressure—”

“You just want to literally be a captain, _Cold,”_ Hartley accuses.

“I’ll admit, my moniker is certainly convenient,” Len smirks and keeps talking to prevent any more arguments from the other. “Now, Barry and I are going to… head back to update the others. Don’t kill each other while we’re gone.”

“We aren’t _children,”_ Cisco says.

“Then don’t act like them,” Len shoots back to a wide-eyed Cisco. “Come on, Barry.”

Len stalks out of the bridge, and Barry follows soundlessly, leaving Hartley and Cisco alone.

_Three more days,_ Cisco reminds himself again, _just three more days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist all the punny oppertunities. 
> 
> Headed to the door now. 
> 
> Until next time!


	20. The Fate of the Seas Makes a Terrible Hot Tub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is coming out way before I originally planned, but eh, enjoy! I heart y'all a lot and you deserve nice things.
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Slow Your Breath Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sepUzgAnlzs) by Future Forestry, [Common Ground](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVG35v1iEzo) by Our Last Night, and [Hide and Seek](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CFIHY_PaOk) by Eppic (feat. Poppy).

Len and Barry arrive to see the remaining Rogues fortunately _not_ causing chaos with the rest of Team Flash. The stateroom is relatively in one piece—the door still needs to be fixed—and it seems that the two groups are even enjoying one another’s company. Lisa is draped over Sam on the couch with her legs over the top of his thighs and the two are the only Rogues talking amongst themselves.

Harry’s whereabouts are unknown, which is fortunate for Jesse and Wally who are happily laughing about a joke that Wally had made and are very much in each other’s personal space. Mick, Roy, Eddie, and Iris are engaged in light conversation about color theory prompted by Roy’s explanation of how he paints the ocean. Mick keeps asking about how to paint flames and when Roy tells him, Mick considers shadowing the artist during his next watercolor class.

Meanwhile, Caitlin and Shawna are discussing how Shawna’s powers would be effective in practical medicine. Shawna had peeked and bood several times to test hypotheses about the Heimlich maneuver while also testing how efficiently she could treat multiple people at once. Of course, Len isn’t supposed to find out about their experiments, so when Len does pop in through the door with the speedster in his wake, Caitlin and Shawna meet gazes in silent thanks that Shawna hadn’t been caught in the act.

“Hartley and Cisco have the engines running. We’re moving, but right now it’s slow,” Len announces as Barry moves to stand next to him as best he can, “No sign of the captain or the bridge crew, but I think Hartley and Cisco are competent enough to compensate.”

“We heard the announcement and figured you all had figured it out when we started making waves,” Eddie updates. At the mention of making waves, Mark comes back inside from the balcony, where he’d previously been gazing out over the water while lost in his thoughts.

“We should be back on course _and_ on schedule by the end of the night,” Len finishes. “Piper and Ramon are geniuses.”

Caitlin, Barry, Lisa, and Mick speak up. “We know,” they say simultaneously.

“But here’s the thing. We had a little… _help,”_ Len says, already preparing himself for protests and demands for explanations.

“Boss…” Mick warns and crosses his arms, still not appreciating Len keeping him out of the loop.

“Things happened rather quick,” Len looks to Mick, understanding the meaning behind his partner’s abrupt change in body language. “If I could have consulted you, I would have done it.”

Mick nods skeptically, accepting the answer for the moment.

“Piper, Ramon, Barry, and I made it to the bridge, but there was no one there. The crew was just _gone,”_ Len says. “Barry searched for clues and was an actual _forensic scientist_ for once,” Barry scoffs in offense. “But he couldn’t find anything except for an old coffee mug that Barry used to place the kidnappings close to 4 AM. Navigational logs further backed it up.”

“They’re…gone?” Caitlin asks, not quite believing her ears.

Len nods his head once. “It gets worse, Snow.”

“And you’re sure you double-checked over Barry’s work?” Harry says, popping up out of nowhere as usual, his voice low and gruff.

“Barry is the best forensic scientist we have,” Eddie defends, having worked with him on multiple occasions. “Despite his title of _assistant,_ he knows what he’s doing more than half the force and he does damn good work while he’s at it.”

Len smirks to himself, remembering that Cisco had once said something similar. Even Barry Allen has a few fans.

“Moving _on,”_ Len drawls briefly, capturing the attention of those around him once more. “We found the engine room and when we got down there, neither of the four of us knew anything about the equipment. Hartley figured out that the engines were to blame for the ship stopping and that it wasn’t a complete shutdown from the bridge. Since the engines supply the power that runs the propellers, shutting off the engines were an easy way to stop the ship. Plus, we found that the rest of the ship’s functions were running off of emergency generators and had been for quite some time which was another big tip off. Then I was attacked by a woman who just _happened_ to be the Quality Assurance Consultant for the engi—”

“Excuse me. The quality what?” Iris interrupts.

“The person who’s privately employed by the engine company to watch over their equipment,” Len explains. “She knows everything about the engines on this ship and once we got her to _not_ attack us and found we were both on the same side—also known as trying to get the ship moving instead of keeping it stopped—things got _interesting.”_

“Her name is Harley Quinn,” Len continues. “And she watched the engine crew get abducted.” Len explains Harley’s account of the early morning kidnappings and one by one the rest of those in the room become perplexed. He explains their theory of how the kidnappers are working from Royalty’s employee manifest and not just snatching who they see. Len is careful not to miss any important details and Barry checks over his work.

“Could it have been someone like me?” Shawna proposes and then her brain catches up with her words and she starts backpedaling. “But not me, I didn’t do it I swear,” she looks to Len, eyes imploring.

He doesn’t think it had been her for an instant because she’s not that _good._ “We believe you, Baez,” Len reassures her. “Calm down.”

“If whoever did this is a meta they could have a modified form of your powers,” Caitlin brings up. “If they could do it without touching the person, then kidnappings like these would be possible.”

“That sounds a little horrifying,” Iris admits, stepping minutely closer to Eddie. He takes the cue and slips an arm around her waist to pull her closer.

“This whole thing is horrifying,” Mick states cleanly, voice dry.

“In short, we told Harley what was up on our end—” Len starts.

“Did you tell her about our criminal activities? Our powers?” Mark exclaims. “ _The Mask?”_

Len is honestly afraid to nod. But since he’s Leonard Snart he does anyway. He refuses to sugarcoat. “Yes, I did, _and she helped us._ ”

“You can’t be seriously trusting her!” Mark shouts, throwing up his hands and barely missing the people on either side of him.

“I don’t _trust_ her but we _need_ her, Mardon,” Len says flatly, slightly losing his patience but not showing it at all. “She can run an entire engine room by herself because she’s a genius and a goddamn acrobat.”

“An…a…acrobat?” Caitlin’s voice is quizzical, confused, and slightly impressed.

“She literally swung around the whole room to keep an eye on everything. Like from overhead pipe to overhead pipe,” Len explains further, remembering Harley’s acrobatics fondly. “She’s not a meta, but—”

“—you’re sure about that?” Harry points to his watch, his _metahuman detecting_ watch, for emphasis.

“—we’re sure for now,” Len’s eyes go into a squint. “She saved our asses, the ship is moving, and right now I’m not questioning it and neither should you,” Len finishes, amazed he was able to retell the whole tale without having to break up a heated discussion amongst the Rogues. “We should probably just make sure everything is running smoothly on the rest of the ship, and then I guess… continue with your vacation,” Len tells her with a shrug.

“I’ll take care of it. Making sure everything else is running smoothly, that is,” Barry says and vanishes in a quick yellow storm that leaves nothing but a lingering crackle behind.

“He really would make a great Rogue,” Len says, staring at the place Barry used to be.

“Not on your life,” Caitlin says immediately.

“He’d be good at breaking windows, though,” Mick says, agreeing with Len. “Especially with the whole running-at-superspeed thing. How many windows does he shatter on a regular basis when he runs?” Mick asks and Caitlin doesn’t betray her budding interest. Mick is unaffected by the rejection. “Regardless, he’d be a great B&E thief. In addition to being able to break into somewhere and get out in a _flash,_ ” he chuckles at the joke. “He would cost everyone else a fortune on the way,” Mick starts smiling and puts his hands together, thinking of the possibilities. “It’s like a two-fold theft.”

“He can run without shattering windows in his wake and you do realize he knows how to phase through solid objects, right?” Caitlin crosses her arms. “That would eliminate any need to break windows.”

Mick makes a noise as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, points the index fingers of his still-clasped hands at her and quietly adds, “can he phase through bank vaults?”

“Stop entertaining it!” Caitlin says and then _she’s_ thinking about it. “The walls might be too thick… not sure actually.”

“Only one way to find out,” Mick claps his hands, already planning the hypothetical heist.

“We’re _not_ sending Barry to rob a bank just to test a theory!” Caitlin says.

“You’re not sending me to do _what_ now?” Barry says from _right behind_ Caitlin.

Caitlin jumps, shrieking. “Barry! _Why?”_ She busies herself by smoothing her blouse.

“Because it’s fun!” Barry replies instantly.

“See,” Len says, gesturing to Barry. “He’s on the way to being a Rogue already.”

Caitlin leaves the room and Barry gets back to business. “I checked around the rest of the ship—mainly looking at passenger’s expressions and whatnot while I was running in the Speedforce since everything slows down—and all the passengers and miscellaneous crew look generally untroubled,” Barry updates. “Except for one seemingly married couple that I’m 90% sure are not going to make it to the Isle of Fate in one piece…”

“Well,” Mick says the second Barry finishes talking. “I’m headed to the dessert bar.”

“Mick you did that last night,” Shawna tells him as if she could stop Mick from getting to his sweets.

“That was the _midnight_ dessert bar,” Mick informs. “This is the _noon_ dessert bar. It has cheesecake and I need to criticize it.”

Mick leaves the room. Sam shifts under Lisa and she hops up.

“Let’s go take a look at that jewelry store,” Sam says. “They have lots of glittery, gold, _reflective_ things.”

“No stealing, Scudder,” Len warns.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam says. Lisa takes his arm and they too walk out of Team Flash’s suite. Caitlin returns with a less angry mindset. She’s high-strung as it is, and snapping that would be bad.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Harry says, plopping down on his couch the second after Lisa and Sam get up, “Snow, when I wake up we’re doing research on the disappearances, since apparently _no one else cares,_ ” Harry had definitely said that to make people care.

Caitlin nods.

“Well, Snart and Barry have it covered for now, but doing independent research doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Eddie says. Barry doesn’t bother to stop him and neither does Len. “Iris? How about a nap and then we can assist Harry and Caitlin on the investigation?”

“Already with you,” Iris grabs Eddie’s hand, and tugs them into their room. “Call us when it’s time for dinner,” she looks at Barry.

“Sure thing,” Barry promises.

Shawna then whispers something in Mark’s ear, and he nods right before she blinks them to the suite’s balcony and then the two Rogues are gone, presumably back to their stateroom. Roy tells everyone he’s going to a watercolor lesson that he signed up for a few days ago and then he’s gone too.

Jesse and Wally leave the room without a word and that leaves Caitlin, Barry and Len in awkward silence.

“I’m just going to sit in a Jacuzzi for a while,” Caitlin says quickly and runs off to her room to grab her swimwear. She hurries out shortly after and leaves Len and Barry to their own devices.

“So um,” Barry says as he shifts slightly closer to Len. The other man notices and holds back a smirk. “What do you want to do?”

“We have a ship to watch over, I figure we can go get drinks and enjoy the crowds, and maybe check on Cisco and Hartley to make sure they haven’t killed each other,” A smile creeps across Len’s features. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“Are you actually asking me out?”

“Officially,” Len says, voice smooth and sure.

“Yeah, Len,” Barry laughs, enjoying the pleasant feeling rising in his stomach. “You can buy me a drink.”

But before the two can head to the nearest bar, an awful loud banging noise comes from low in the ship.

Len opens his mouth to speak but Barry is already running.

~~~~~~~~~~~

On the bridge, Cisco stands up, walks over to where Hartley is aptly reading, and plops down in the nearest chair. He puts his feet up on the counter, crosses his arms, and leans back. The whole ordeal goes down without Hartley reacting but it’s impossible for the other man not to have noticed _._

“What did he do to you?” Cisco says, interrupting the other man from his _Popular Mechanics_ reading. Again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hartley says, attempting to go back to his reading.

“Hartley, I mentioned the word _resume_ and your eyes got distant. I know that look. _You_ know that look,” Cisco says, referencing earlier that morning, when Cisco and Hartley had walked away together in the engine room. Cisco had been having a flashback and Hartley had been there for him in his own I-kinda-hate-you-but-anxiety-sucks kind of way. “Takes one to know one. And there’s only _one_ person I can think of that could incite such a reaction in _you_ , unless you too had a bad run-in with the leader of the Rogues. But something tells me that’s not the case.”

Hartley breathes out sharply and puts down his phone. If Cisco really wants to do this…

“ _Harrison_ was a manipulative bastard,” Hartley says. “Which you know. He just did some things that I have a hard time forgetting that life makes me remember sometimes. Now, _let it go.”_

Cisco uncrosses his arms and lowers his voice, even though he and Hartley are the only ones in the Bridge. His words are soft, not harsh or meant to hurt. “Only if you can.”

Hartley objects to that instantly. There’s no way he’s going to talk to Cisco about Harrison. Although, when he thinks about it, Cisco _had_ also been damaged by Harrison, so if there’s one person Hartley’s going to talk to—

Hartley talks before he has a chance to think twice about it. “He burned my resume in front of me after telling me I’d never get a job in research ever again. He destroyed my reputation—more than when my parents disowned me—and told me that the only field I stood a chance in was teaching. There.”

Hartley can’t even look at Cisco when he says it and the other man doesn’t seem to mind. But on the other hand, Hartley had actually never said anything about what Harrison did to him out loud before and it felt… _good._

“You know he only picked both of us because he knew what we would do in the future, right?” Cisco says.

“Of course I didn’t know that,” Hartley snaps back, looking at Cisco again. It’s easier now. “You don’t really talk about Harrison either.”

“Caitlin, you, me… according to him we’d be nothing without him, so that’s why we all ended up at S.T.A.R. Labs. He claimed to improve our timelines, but I often wonder if that’s true or not.”

“Well, it’s because of him that I’m nothing _now_ , so he didn’t really do much.” Hartley grumbles, frustrated with the new information but also not surprised that Harrison Wells continues to be a piece of shit long after he’s gone.

Cisco breathes out a sigh, hardly believing what he’s about to admit to the other. “You aren’t worth nothing. You’re like, super smart and super intelligent—and yes, I believe they’re different things—and maybe you’re just trying to figure stuff out right now.”

Hartley doesn’t believe him, because why would he? “What did he do to you? You’ve _alluded_ to the whole ‘killing in another timeline’ thing, but you glossed over it and avoided any other mention of him,” Hartley turns the tables, and Cisco takes it as a cue to stop prying. Instead, Cisco shakes his finger at the other man in acknowledgement of the play. He should have expected this, and now Cisco’s trying to figure out how to summarize Harrison Wells’ betrayal to _Hartley Rathaway_.

“I trusted him. Plain and simple. And he took that trust, destroyed it, and after finding out he killed my best friend’s mom, got said best friend struck by lightning to further his own gains, and then on _top_ of that, abused all of our trusts,” Cisco explains, recalling all of the memories and then the alternate timelines he wants to forget. “You might not believe me about all this time travel stuff—”

“Oh, I do,” Hartley says quickly.

Cisco’s lips turn up in a wry smile and then disappear. “—but in the one I told everyone about this morning, I was investigating him—which hurt, because it meant I already didn’t trust him the way I used to—and he found me. He walked into the room, and there was no one else around, and I just remember thinking that it was the end. I was going to die and there was no way around it because it’s not like I stood a chance if I tried to run,” Cisco let out a dark laugh. “But he monologued and right at the end, he told me he’d grown _fond_ of me right before he shoved his hand through my heart. And I… can’t shake that. He did a lot of terrible things, but that’s the one that sticks with me when it’s just a little bit too late at night.”

Hartley’s grown still. “Is that what happened this morning when…”

Cisco laughs more out of hysteria than anything else. “Oh no, this morning was just left over from when your fearless leader kidnapped me and almost froze off my brother’s hands because I wouldn’t tell him who the Flash was.”

“So _that’s_ how Snart knows,” Hartley spins slightly in his chair, loosening up a bit but not excited about the revelation. “I always wondered.”

“He can still go straight to hell for that,” Cisco says. “This cruise aside. Like, hell can wait until after I’ve got my hands on the Mask of Fate.”

“I mean I would be saying the same if I was in your shoes,” Hartley agrees.

Cisco finds _that_ disconcerting.

But before Cisco can investigate further, a noise begins rising from the depths of the ship that the two can only hear in the silence between their words. However, it suddenly increases in strength, sounding as if there are wings of metal flapping against the sides of the ship. It’s loud, noisy, scary, and impossible not to notice.

And they were on Deck 12.

Cisco slowly turns to look at Hartley in horror. “Hartley, what the hell is that noise?” Cisco asks over the racket, worry in his voice.

Hartley is clearly amused by Cisco’s terrified expression and leans back in his chair, not actively doing anything at all. _This_ is his comfort zone; showing Cisco Ramon who’s boss.

“Have you ever driven a large ship? Like, at all?” Hartley asks. He remains calm, unaffected by the noise that reminds Cisco of a hundred steel baseball bats colliding with the hull under their feet.

“Obviously not!” Cisco yells. “And you know that!”

“Guys, what’s happening?” Barry is predictably _right there_ and Hartley’s calm composure shatters with a yelp at the speedster’s sudden appearance. Barry is having too much fun sneaking up on people as of late. Len would be proud.

“Cavitation,” Hartley chokes out, catching his breath.

“Cavit— _what_?” Cisco asks.

“ _Cavitation,”_ Hartley repeats. “It’s what happens when engines shift from one major setting of rpms to another major setting. I think for this ship the first time it can happen is at 730-something. If I were to _simplify,_ cavitation is a byproduct of ‘shifting gears’ and it causes large bubbles to hit the bottom of the ship, which is what’s making all the noise.”

“That awful noise is just _bubbles?”_ Cisco asks.

“Yes.”

“Then _why didn’t you open with that_?” Cisco exclaims, annoyed by his unnecessary frustration on the matter. He’d thought they’d done something wrong and broken the engines, or worse, crashed the ship.

“Because I like watching you squirm,” Hartley answers honestly.

Cisco blushes to the tips of his ears.

“Moving on,” Barry says bringing the attention back to the matter at hand. “Is this something we need to worry about?”

“No,” Hartley takes his eyes off Cisco who is immediately grateful. “It’s perfectly normal and should stop soon. False alarm.”

Barry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thanks,” Barry tells them and then he’s gone.

Cisco turns to Hartley. “Next time something like that happens you need to warn me! I can’t do my job when I’m terrified the ship is broken.”

“Cisquito,” Hartley coos, walking over to the other man and placing a calming hand on Cisco’s shoulder, watching him visibly relax. It’s an oddly calming gesture given that it’s coming from _Hartley_. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Hartley says the words in a way that Cisco would believe are sincere if not for their years of experience in mutually fucking each other over in insignificant-but-sometimes-significant ways.

Cisco is skeptical, but doesn’t brush Hartley’s hand off of him and silently accepts the apology. The Piper removes it soon enough, and Cisco gets back to work, their earlier conversation on hold until further notice.

There’s a faint flush on Cisco’s cheeks when he sits down and Hartley definitely notices. He smirks outside of Cisco’s field of view, liking what he sees, and then, finally, finishes his reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, Hartley finally finished reading that Tesla article. 
> 
> Cavitation happens when a propeller moves so fast that it creates tiny bubbles of steam due to the reduced pressure (similar to how it's possible to boil water at room temperature if your pot is in a vacuum). When those bubbles pop they're really loud and it actually can be quite scary. I've heard it on smaller ships and have read reports of it happening on larger vessels like those similar to the size of the _Fate of the Seas_. Given how alarming it was the first time I heard it, I figured it would be perfect for the new captains to have a fun time dealing with it. Plus, Hartley finding new ways to be a dick to Cisco is always fun to mess around with. [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ON_irzFAU9c) is a great video that explains the science behind cavitation in an easy to understand way. It's about 3 minutes long if you desire an estimate.
> 
> Finally (lol), finals week is coming for me! I might have time to write, might not, I'm just not sure at this point, but figured I would give you guys a heads up. If you too are having any exams, I wish you luck. We all need it at this point.


	21. Pulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that "M" has been staring me in the face for a while... so without further ado, 4k words of coldflash smut. Enjoy! 
> 
> If you need some groovy tunes to go with this one, Cisco's playlist would include [I Feel it Coming](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFLhGq0060w) by The Weeknd, [Burn it Up all Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1u753wt9Ug) by Sweet Talker, and [Planet Earth Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LcIp5p5LHg) by Jo Blankenburg.

“Cavitation!” Barry blurts out, now back in front of Len.

“Excuse me? _”_ Len says, not understanding.

“The noise! It’s called _cavitation_ and it’s just a bunch of bubbles hitting the bottom of the ship since the engines are moving faster,” Barry explains. “It’s totally normal and shouldn’t be happening for much longer.”

“I don’t like your definition of normal,” Len states, but he’s already calmer than he had been a few seconds ago.

“I mean I don’t like yours, either,” Barry winks. “But you’re a criminal… I’m not…” Barry weighs the two statements, hands moving up and down on either side of his body, “So, contrary to what you might think, our different standards,” Barry laughs at what he’s about to say, “are _normal.”_

“I still don’t like that, but I kinda like you,” Len grins and pulls Barry close.

“I kinda like you too,” Barry says, moving closer in Len’s arms.

Len can’t feel Barry’s skin against his own because of the clothes that separate them, but Len can still feel the raw strength _under_ those clothes and it’s thrilling to know that he’s holding all that power in his own arms. Len gives himself an imaginary high five before kissing Barry. When they part a few moments later, Barry looks at him in mock surprise.

“What? Not going to run away from me this time?” Barry smirks.

Oh, Len is not about to let Barry get away with _that._

Len snickers, lets go of Barry all at once, and gives him a playful shove.

“I said I was sorry, _Barry_ ,” Len says sternly although his smile betrays his lack of seriousness. The next shove is rougher and the speedster stumbles back to catch himself. Len does it again and Barry’s surprised at the strength behind Len’s pushes.

“Len, what—” Barry is cut off by the back of his foot hitting the wall. Len shoves him one last time, and Barry’s back hits the wall _hard._ Len follows the movement and leans in close. Barry, much to Len’s minor annoyance, is _still_ trying to talk, _“_ —are you—” any further words are muffled by Len’s hand covering Barry’s mouth to quiet him.

“—doing?” Len finishes. Barry nods from under Len’s hand. “Well, _apparently_ you weren’t satisfied with my last apology, so I’m thinking I need to show you again.”

Barry’s stomach flips. _Oh._

Len releases him and Barry stammers his words. _“_ Sh—Show m-me again?”

“Yes, _Barry,_ ” Len says, voice low but not villainous and it’s just _doing_ things to Barry.

“I mean, s-sure,” Barry stammers, and Len knows he’s got Barry right where he wants him. He very carefully shifts one leg to rest in between Barry’s own. Just for fun.

Then Len kisses him. Hard. Barry concedes for the moment, enjoying the freedom in not having to worry about what to do when Len is doing _everything._ He can languidly run his hands up and down Len’s back, squeeze his hips and laugh into Len’s unpredictable kisses…

Barry is already close to losing his mind, but when Len moves his leg slightly upwards to encourage the barest hint of grinding, all of it shatters. They can’t do this here. Any more and—

Barry moves in Len’s hold, and Len lets him go.

“What’s wrong?” Len asks.

“We’re in a _hallway,_ Len!” Barry exclaims in a whisper. “A _public_ hallway!”

“Then where do you suggest we—” Barry picks up Len and flashes them both to his stateroom, depositing him carefully on the floor so that he _hopefully_ won’t fall over when the older man realizes what’s happened.

“—go? _Oh_ ,” Len feels a familiar wave of nausea hit him and breathes through it, knowing that it’s a perfectly natural response after sudden temporal displacement. It’s nothing compared to the side effects of time jumps on the _Waverider_ , so Len will be fine in a few moments.

Once the nausea passes, he realizes Barry had brought them back in the same room they’d slept in last night. It’s the room they’d both inhabited before the _Fate of the Seas_ had gone adrift…

Len doesn’t give Barry any time to react before he’s shoving the younger man down on the bed and he’s _not_ doing it lightly. It’s a bed. It’s softer than the ground and he’s thrown Barry to the ground _plenty_ of times.

Barry laughs and grabs Len’s shirt in one hand, balling the fabric into one of his fists. Before _Len_ can react, Barry is taking the older man down with him. Len falls, sloppily landing on top of Barry and knocking the breath out of the speedster.

“That didn’t,” Barry wheezes while trying to fill his lungs with air again. “Turn out how I’d planned.”

Len moves so that his forearms are on either side of Barry’s head and his legs cage Barry’s hips. Len leans down so that he can touch his forehead to Barry’s.

“I’m okay with it,” Len emphasizes with a downward grind of his own hips.

Barry exhales and his voice comes out in a squeak. “Yeah, I’m okay with it too.”

Len’s lips start tracing the curves of Barry’s face. The speedster keeps trying to capture Len’s lips with his own, but the older man is effective at dodging. Len’s weight on top of Barry is grounding. It’s sure, and Barry finds a certain level of peace in not needing to go anywhere.

It’s also a little scary to think Barry is _still_ letting his nemesis kiss him. And Len? Len is also still kissing his nemesis so…

Barry tries to stop rationalizing the whole situation and pay attention to Len’s lips a _nd_ his magical fingers _._ In no world could Barry have anticipated that _Leonard Snart’s fingers_ would make him so fuzzy in the head.

Barry wonders how many safes those fingers have cracked, how many locks they’ve picked, how many priceless artifacts they’ve held and then there’s the _diamonds_ they’ve stolen _,_ and Len’s here touching Barry like _he’s_ something precious.

It’s the barest touch—like a heavy feather—along his jugular that has Barry making a noise he should _not_ be making right now.

Len picks up on Barry’s reaction and does it again.

Barry tries so hard not to moan and _fails._

Len smirks and kisses Barry’s nose before running the back of his fingers up and down Barry’s neck to elicit similar responses. Barry is enjoying himself and Len is too, but the problem that Len wants to migrate south, but Barry’s shirt is in the way.

“Hey, Barry, do you want to—” All Len feels is a quick gust of wind and then there’s a suddenly shirtless Barry Allen beneath him. “—take your…” Len just stops because there’s no point.

Barry is wiggling to return to his former position and Len is okay if _this_ is something he has to get used to. Now, if Barry could flash away and return with _no_ clothes on…

Len would get used to that real quick.

Barry is just grinning and doesn’t allow Len to be distracted any longer by wrapping his arm around the back of Len’s neck to pull him down so that Barry can kiss him.

“Sure,” Barry says against Len’s still-stunned lips, following his words with a laugh, and returns to kissing him back.

Len’s hands speed up to trail across Barry’s collarbones in a symmetrical fashion, tracing looped patterns that would surely be art if Barry were to see them on paper in streaks of violet and pink. Barry is moving ever so slightly—little jerks here and there—and Len’s smirking.

“You don’t have to stay still,” Len runs a spiral around Barry’s left nipple, then repeats the action with the right.

“Well it’s hard—” Len touches that sensitive spot on his neck again, “—to enjoy it—” Barry bucks his hips up for a second, “—when I’m moving so much.”

Len doesn’t feel like giving him any mercy—maybe next time—so he picks up the pace. He quickly crawls downward so that his face is close to Barry’s crotch. What he sees _pleases_ him.

_Ah, Barry is_ really _enjoying this,_ Len thinks.

Len kisses the bulge that’s formed there and gives it a harmless nip _._ Len’s lips are almost as light as Len’s fingers and Barry will surely die if Len touches him _that_ way right _there_ —

Barry _shudders_ when Len does touch him and the older man hums while he does it a second time, the slight vibration making Barry’s head spin. Hands run across Barry’s thighs, squeezing here and there in irregular increments to keep the speedster on his theoretical toes. Under Len’s ministrations, Barry melts into a beautiful puddle.

A puddle that really, _really_ wants Len’s mouth on his cock.

Barry sits up and reaches for the zipper on his pants, but Len stops him, batting his hands away.

“Not so fast, Scarlet,” Len says.

Barry falls back on the bed with a groan wondering idly if Len _ever_ passes up the opportunity for a pun. He and slings one arm over his eyes when he realizes that he probably doesn’t. “Then when _will_ it be fast?”

“Shhhhh…” Len hushes, placing a kiss against Barry’s clothed erection. “Slow down, _Flash_ ,” Barry groans again and tries to reach down again but Len just grabs his wrists to stop the action.

Len keeps talking anyway. “You have smarts and _intelligence_. You know what you’re capable of and have a decent knowledge of your limits,” Len lets go of Barry’s wrists and Barry instantly tries to reach for his pants again. Len continues to bat the speedster’s hands away until he grabs them once more to place them on either side of Barry.

“Keep them there,” He orders. “Or you can flail or whatever, just don’t put your hands down here. And hang onto the sheets or something. It helps.”

“Helps _what_ , exactly?” Barry questions, voice unsure.

“Keeps you from interfering with what I’m about to do, because if you do...”

Barry realizes the implications rather quickly. “You can’t expect me to—”

“—I expect you to _try._ ”

“Okay I can do that, but what happens if—”

“Don’t let it _happen,_ Barry.”

And before Barry can reply, Len has not only unzipped Barry’s pants but also lowered Barry’s boxers.

Barry gulps, trying to think past the cool air on his dick and how the sheets next to him will clearly not be enough. He’s already getting the urge to put his hands on Len’s head, just to scratch the older man’s scalp in reassurance.

Barry is finding himself wondering again what the hell he’s doing with Len because Len hasn’t even _started_ touching him yet and Barry is already way ahead of him. If Barry actually lets Len do this, he’s definitely going to hell.

“Len,” Barry breathes out. “You are too much of a fucking tease.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Len gives the tip of Barry’s swollen dick a little peck. It’s kind of… _scarlet_ and Len laughs at the irony.

“Did you just kiss my dick _again_?” Barry tone is incredulous.

Len nods.

Barry’s next request is tentative. “Can you… make out with it?”

Len chuckles, but does as Barry asks, taking the speedster into his mouth. He carefully covers his teeth with his lips—because Len doesn’t know if Barry likes teeth yet—before taking Barry in until the tip of Barry’s cock softly hits the back of his throat. Len moves back and then forward again and the tip hits it harder this time.

Barry _moans._

Yeah, he’s definitely going to hell.

Len’s mouth is a warmth Barry can’t place. It feels like a wet that isn’t clean but it’s a wet that doesn’t feel extremely dirty either and then there’s the pulsing muscles in Len’s mouth and the way he’s using his tongue…

Len is _amazing._ Yeah. Amazing. _Yeah._

Len catches on to Barry’s brain short-circuiting and urges it on. He adds a hand behind his thrusts—they’re not _too_ intense because Len wants to be able to talk after this—and then moves his mouth and his hands as one hot unit.

“Len, that’s—” Barry cuts off for a second. “—really _good,”_ Len doesn’t know why he’s trying to talk. Len wants to tell him to be quiet and take what Len’s giving him, but his mouth is otherwise… _occupied._ “Like, you’re—AH!”

Len picks up the pace to make Barry shut up and it works.

He’s moving Barry’s cock in and out, _in and out_ and it’s a nice steady rhythm that Len’s grown to like. He’s forgotten how much he loves pleasing his partners this way. So when Barry’s hands do migrate to Len’s head, tapping it urgently because Len realizes Barry is having an issue _vocalizing,_ Len prepares himself, his earlier orders to Barry forgotten. Len would admit the speedster had behaved _very_ well. So when Barry comes, Len believes he wholly deserves it. Len nearly chokes, but knows that at least for him, the minor gagging is normal.

But just as Len is swallowing the rest down, _it_ happens.

Then _it_ happens again and _it_ makes Len _laugh._

Leonard Snart is not a stupid man, nor had he not thought of the inherent advantages—and disadvantages—of having a speedster in the bedroom when he’d started this _tryst_ with Barry. But this, _this_ is a variable he’d only hesitantly put into the equation after he’d caught Barry vibrating his hands in the Jacuzzi a few days ago. Those days also feel like years and _so much has changed_ between Barry and Len since then.

Barry shoots up off the bed the second he realizes what’s happening, sitting up and looking down at a shocked Len who _still_ has his mouth on Barry’s cock. Slowly, Len reluctantly removes his mouth and sits back on his heels like a man who’s seen a ghost and had been too _amazed_ that he’s seen a ghost to care that it’s a ghost.

Barry shoves his cock back into his pants, freaks out, and starts rambling, “I should have warned you, but like, I don’t even know how you _tell_ someone that—”

“—their bed partner is a human vibrator?” Len finishes for him, a smirk spread across his smug face.

Barry gives a tight-lipped nod.

“It’s okay with me I assure you _,”_ Len moves forward and lowers his voice. “Now, not that I would _dare_ objectify you for that… _functionality_ but…” Len waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Barry speaks immediately. “Sure,” Barry’s face fills with a beautiful expression akin to _pride_ before flattening abruptly and the younger man looks shy. “Just as long as you don’t tell anyone about it, please.”

“As long as you don’t tell anyone how quick I’m about to come,” Len quips immediately and shamelessly. Len knows there’s no way he’ll last longer than a minute—or less—if his preview of Barry’s powers is any indication of what’s about to happen. In any other situation he might be ashamed, but superpowers like Barry’s make it pretty easy _not_ to be.

Barry would spit coffee if he had any. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Sounds like a deal,” His face lights up again and Len smiles back at him. Barry holds out his hand, a mockery of all the other deals they’ve made and Len grabs it.

He makes to shake it, but that’s his mistake. Barry uses it as leverage to pull Len forward, toppling him forward on the bed. He’s about to hit it face first, but suddenly the world is flipped—not once, but several times—and Len is vaguely aware of Barry climbing on top of him.

Barry holds the hand Len had tried to shake Barry’s with to the pillow above Len’s hand. Their fingers are intertwined and Len’s not even mad. He’s laying prone under Barry with his other arm resting calmly at his side and decides that being manhandled by a speedster into _exactly the position that speedster wants him in_ is pretty damn hot.

Backs of fingers dust Len’s cheeks and Len looks up to see a smiling Barry Allen. A smiling _sheepish_ Barry Allen.

“Figured if you want me to use my powers on you I might as well go all out,” Barry releases Len’s hand and Len lets it migrate to his side as Barry dips down. “Although since you aren’t a speedster,” Barry grabs the hem of Len’s Hawaiian snowflake shirt. “And seeing how I’m not good enough at phasing clothes off people yet—”

“—how do you even _practice that?”_ Len exclaims while beginning to unbutton the shirt he’s come to love on this voyage.

“Cisco finds it useful when we go swimming in the S.T.A.R. Labs pool,” Barry explains then his face goes red. “Just the shirt though!”

Len chuckles and pulls his shirt off, casually tossing it towards a chair on the far wall. It misses, which is slightly embarrassing because of how _small_ this room is. Fortunately, the other man hadn’t seen it.

“Whoa,” Barry says, and then pauses to snuggle his shirtless self into Len’s side to get a closer look at all of Len’s intricate tattoos. “These are _cool,_ Len.” Barry says. “It’s like you have stories inside your skin.”

Len had never thought of them like that, but then again, each tattoo either commemorates or erases something and that by definition means stories.

Len has a _lot_ of stories.

“Pick one.” Len says, oddly confident. “And I’ll tell you the story behind it.”

Barry traces a small snowflake that’s inked below Len’s left nipple. “This one.”

Len laughs. “That one’s easy. You,” he grins. Take a look, and keep an eye out for the bolts.”

“Wh—” Barry stops because he finds it necessary to further examine the snowflake before speaking again. Six points flare out from the snowflake’s nexus and each branch is identical to the one next to it. Sharply cut polygons make up the tattoo’s structure and hidden within the negative space they create are tiny _lightning bolts_. They’re so _small_ and there’s no way Barry would have noticed them if Len hadn’t pointed them out. Now that he _does_ see them, they overwhelm the design, as if the tattoo is a lightning storm carefully contained in the form of a snowflake. It’s creative, and Barry thinks— “It’s beautiful. But, why?”

“It’s simple. Because of _you_ , I got my partner back and started enjoying heisting again. Because of _you_ , _Leonard Snart_ is back in the game,” Len explains. “Plus, I had to embrace my new persona in more ways than just a parka, Barry, _come_ on.”

Barry is clearly conflicted, but Len likes that look on him so it’s okay.

“I’m glad you like them,” Len runs his hand through Barry’s hair and Barry exhales, grateful that hadn’t been required to reply.

“I like them all,” Barry says with a tone that means he’s about to _start_ something and Len is so excited. “But especially _this_ one—” Barry puts his mouth over a tattoo close to Len’s right nipple and the sudden heat makes him yelp. Barry pulls off. “—and _this_ one—” Barry attacks the snowflake again and Len can’t stop the yelp that comes out of his mouth that time either. “—and this one—” Barry suddenly moves to his ribs, mouthing at a rather intricate skull tattoo and then sucking down along each bone until he’s reached the bottom, only to start anew on the tattoos on the other side. “I also love this one—” Len doesn’t even know what tattoo he’s at anymore. “—this one is pretty—” Barry shifts to his abdomen and Len groans at the friction that he’s getting from that alone.

This isn’t lost on Barry because the speedster is unbuttoning Len’s jeans and Len’s helping him tug them down and Len is definitely _ready_ and Barry just takes the waistband of his boxers in his hands.

“This one, though, is my _favorite,”_ Barry runs his tongue along the words scrawled below Len’s naval that Len couldn’t remember if he tried and then the speedster pulls his boxers down.

Barry looks at Len’s cock like it’s a particularly nice cut of steak.

Len’s one hundred percent okay with this.

“I don’t know how you stay sane,” Barry says idly, licking up the side of Len’s length like a cat that’s not sure whether it wants to eat something or not. “I mean, you’re just _leaking_ over here, waiting for me…”

Barry intensifies his licks and Len’s cock jumps involuntarily.

“ _Barry,”_ Len warns. “I’m going _insane_ right now, and I’ll turn into a _maniac_ if you don’t start soon.”

After wrapping one hand around Len, Barry leans forward, swagger gone for the moment and voice suddenly serious. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah,” Len says quietly, giving the other man the green light. “Do it,” he tries to sound stern, but his normal tone of command is weak and lost here. If anything it just leaves Barry laughing.

“You’re cute,” Barry chuckles and _thankfully_ moves lower.

“Barry _Allen,_ so help me _god—”_

Len exhales the rest of the sentence like he’s been punched, unable to do anything else. He knows the heat he’s feeling on his cock is from Barry’s mouth—there’s no question there—but there’s a feeling deep in his dick that _everythingismovingeverythingismoving_ that doesn’t feel natural. But it’s still _there_ and it feels so _good_ and Len wishes he could just _worship_ Barry Allen because the guy is a blowjob _god._

But _holy shit_ Len’s _dick._ It feels like three dicks of pleasure conspired to concentrate into one _temporally confused_ dick that’s very, _very_ happy.

Then the pleasure is slipping out of Len’s control, going up, up, and _up_ , and it’s about to hit the ceiling. No, fuck that. It’s pushing the _skies_ and aiming for the goddamn _stars_ and Len can’t even _warn_ Barry that he’s about to come because he’s lost all motor functions and he is so, so _close soclosesoclosesoclosesoclosesoclose—_

“It’s okay Len,” A voice calls. _“_ Let go.”

Len comes crying something close to Barry’s name.

It’s like his dick is a volcano and everything is _erupting_ and _shooting_ and there are literal _fractals_ in Len’s vision and then there’s this grayish pink that’s lazily trying to take him over. Len fights it until it fades and he can dimly hear Barry laughing, bright and young, and then the bed is dipping and Barry is lying there with him, kissing some of the tattoos the speedster had missed earlier.

Len is barely conscious.

Barry finds it endearing.

“How long did I last?” Len says lazily.

“How long do you think?”

“Twenty”

“Try _five,_ ” Barry corrects.

It’s Len’s turn to spit theoretical coffee. “ _Seriously_?”

“You stopped breathing when I started and then it was like I flipped an off switch until you came,” Barry recounts. “You were totally gone and it was _great._ ”

“Yeah that was… amazing,” Len doesn’t know what else to do but to turn so he’s facing Barry and plant a kiss on his lips. God, those _lips…_

“This won’t be the last time I do something like that,” Barry pulls his body flush against Len’s and Len runs his hand through the speedster’s hair again, relishing the skin-to-skin contact he’d wanted earlier. “And believe me I have _plenty_ of ideas now that you’re okay with me using my powers in… _intimate_ situations.”

Len gulps. “More than okay,” He reassures the younger man with a small tug to his hair, and Barry melts a little.

With confidence Len would admit to Mick—and Mick alone because Mick wouldn’t hold this kind of admission against Len—that he’s one hundred percent in _like_ with the speedster.

Barry, on the other hand, is either going to tell everyone his feelings or they’ll figure it out, because he clearly likes Len back if that divine blowjob is any indication.

Barry flashes his clothes back on and doesn’t bother asking before doing the same to Len. They’re on a schedule now. Barry leaves the room and locks all doors in his wake. Len follows, smoothing out his snowflake shirt, grateful to have it back on his person.

“Len?”

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, Hartley and Cisco haven’t killed each other yet,” Barry updates. He’d meant to say it earlier but things had understandably gotten away from him even if everything did come back around in the end.

“ _Yet,”_ Len echoes, and the two of them walk towards the elevators without much care in the world at all. Barry slams his finger on the button and after a short wait the doors open.

It takes everything in Len to fight the urge to slam Barry up against the wall of the elevator and kiss him senseless.


	22. The Cheesecake is Terrible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started off fluffy.... and then the fluff kept happening, so enjoy some fluff! 
> 
> Side note: can I just say how awesome that last episode of the Flash really was? I'm just screaming at my television, FINALLY! 
> 
> Alright, all done :) Thanks for wait guys, and I hope this brightens your weekend a bit. 
> 
> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [Six Shooter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkFZn4oPMqE) by Coyote Kisses and [Walk in the Wild](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twJFzhfOfHw) by RVVRS.

Wally slams his hands down on the DDR console and Jesse lets out a whoop of glee, pumping her fists in celebration.

“Yes! Now you have to say it,” Jesse immediately turns to face him, but Wally isn’t as fast, working through the rage that comes when one loses a bet as he turns his head. He shouldn’t be so hard on himself though, the way Jesse’s hair falls when she laughs—when she’s laughing at _him_ —makes losing not so bad.

“Fine,” He smiles. “Jesse Wells is better than me at DDR. Happy?”

“Always,” Jesse says, giggling. “You’re not too bad yourself, Wally.”

Her curls bounce again.

Wally is so screwed.

He opts to try and play it cool. “Well, technically my brother _is_ a speedster,” he shrugs and steps off the platform to let another couple play the game.

“Don’t think it works _exactly_ like that,” Jesse steps off her own platform, and takes Wally’s hand in hers before he can protest, quickly moving her thumb to the ‘inside’ position. “But I’ll let it slide just this once,” She tips her head to signal she’s ready to go and Wally gives a quick nod so they can walk away together.

Jesse and Wally had run off to the on-ship arcade, a small venue with several retro games like Pac-Man and Tetris, but also a more recent—but still old school—favorite: Dance Dance Revolution. Wally should have known he would lose to Jesse the second she challenged him, especially when her nickname was Jesse “Quick” Wells.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Wally asks her while they walk.

“The schools on my Earth have DDR teams. I was on one in high school and college and competed internationally,” She says nonchalantly. “It was fun.”

Wally is not so nonchalant. “You had legitimate _tournaments?”_ Wally says, surprised at how casual she sounds. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little jealous.”

“Yeah, I tried to get on the Pac-Man team, but I could only beat the first 245 levels in my audition,” her voice has a hint of bitterness in it that Wally has never heard before. “I needed to beat five more.”

Wally feels like he’s in way over his head for the fifth time today and fiftieth on this cruise. “How many levels are there?”

“256,” she says, then quickly adds, “I’ve beaten them before. The whole game is just a bunch of patterns.” Wally is still trying to get over the fact that eSports on Earth-2 are not only taken super seriously but are possibly pushing into the realm of physical sports of Jesse’s words are any indication, “If that shocks you, you should see my dad play _Halo_ matchmaking. His Kill/Death ratio is always positive, and whenever I’ve seen him play he’s placed in the top ten percent every time.”

Wally laughs hard at that. “Your dad plays video games? _The_ Harrison Wells plays video games?”

“Of course! He’s the one who got me into them,” Jesse explains offhandedly, pulling Wally over to the token machine where she’s slowly getting more of the on-ship currency so the two of them can play more games. “He taught me how to use an Xbox controller over one Christmas in middle school and I’ve been a gamer ever since. I could never beat him in one on one private matches, but if it was a public match there were times where I got lucky. He’s one hell of sniper, though.”

At least now it isn’t as much of a wonder why Harry likes his pulse rife so much, especially since it would fit right in with _Halo_ or another science-fiction first-person shooter.

“Your dad is cool,” Wally says. “Still terrifying, but cool.”

Jesse lets out a magical laugh. “Just don’t accept a challenge from him in any first person shooter. He’d kill you. A lot,” she pauses for dramatics. “ _But_ you might be able to beat him in DDR. Try it sometime, you’re pretty fast.”

Wally doesn’t say anything to that because he’s too busy imagining Harry playing DDR. Honestly, Wally would probably lose because imagining Harry Wells trying to move his feet in a way that resembles dancing is too funny of an image for him.

“Come on, you DDR speedster,” Jesse finishes getting their tokens. “I want to see how you fare in _Galaga._ ”

“Oh, you are _so_ on,” Wally says. He’s got this one in the bag. _Galaga_ is his jam.

Of course, he thinks that, right up until Jesse’s lips are briefly on his cheek. They’re soft, and he loses track of time for a moment, along with all substantial thoughts for the remainder of the day.

“I’m glad you came on this trip,” Jesse tells him sweetly.

“Me too,” He says, and then kisses her chastely on the lips.

Jesse looks surprised until she grabs him by the shirt and pulls them both into a secluded alcove that’s far away from the rest of the crowd.

They can get back to _Galaga_ later.

~~~~~

Several water jets converge on Caitlin’s back, and she relishes the massage they provide. She’s been more stressed since boarding the ship, which seems counterintuitive. Then again, she’s also trying to avoid thinking about how peaceful this trip _should_ have been, instead of how stressful it actually is.

She’s about to close her eyes and maybe drift away for a small nap when she locks eyes with Heatwave, who has just stepped out onto the deck. She sinks further down into the hot tub, but it’s no use. He’s already headed her way. Before she can make any escape maneuvers, he’s crouched down on the other side of the Jacuzzi so that he can see her better.

“Hey, Snow, you seen Snart?” He asks.

“Nope,” Caitlin’s voice is close to a squeak.

Mick thinks for a second. “Well do _you_ know where the other dessert bar is?” He asks.

“Nope,” Caitlin repeats.

Mick notices then that she’s guarded and honestly, a little scared.

That won’t do.

He sits down and crosses his legs like a yogi, trying to take on a relaxed, unthreatening position. He doesn’t succeed, but he doesn’t exactly fail either.

“I’m sorry I kidnapped you that one time,” Mick tells her. “And almost blew you up with a really big bomb.”

Caitlin relaxes minutely and Mick realizes she’s holding back a laugh because she’s smiling so hard. She doesn’t last much longer and ends up laughing anyway.

“That doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” she says when she can finally catch her breath.

“Will you forgive me if I bring you cheesecake?” Mick asks.

“No.”

He revises his offer. “What about cheesecake for the rest of the cruise?”

“ _No,_ Mick,” she says. “Just, give me time, okay?”

“Well, I don’t want to do that to you ever again,” A pause. “You know, the kidnapping thing,” Mick says. “And scared isn’t a good look on you. It’s a good look on criminals and people I hate, but not you,” Mick tells her.

Caitlin relaxes a little more, but before she can say anything else, he stands up and walks away, presumably to hunt down more desserts.

~~~~~~~~~

“And what can I get for you today miss?” Sam says from behind the jeweler’s counter. He’s taken on a pretentious tone, and straightens the tie of his suit. “And might I say, you look _lovely_ even without any of my wares.”

“Why thank you _,_ ” Lisa says, drawing out each syllable slowly. A stone catches her eye and she points to it approvingly. “That sapphire ring looks beautiful, can I try it on?” Lisa asks, playing along.

“Of course, my dear, anything for someone with such a beautiful face,” Sam says.

“Oh stop it, you!” She giggles and continues to follow their collective ruse when Sam mimes taking the ring out of the locked case and placing it on her finger. She holds out her hand and tilts it, seemingly admiring the ring in the light. “It’s gorgeous! How much?”

“Just a little of your time, enough to have dinner perhaps?” Sam asks wickedly.

“Ooooooh, Sammy that was _good,”_ Lisa breaks character and pecks him on the lips. “And sure! I’d go with you anywhere on this ship.”

“Even my bed?” Sam says.

Lisa punches him and then leans forward. “Of course,” she whispers, then stands back up and winks. She looks around the store then back at Sam. “It is odd that there’s no one here watching us,” Lisa points out.

“Oh, people are watching us,” Sam points to the security cameras stationed around the store in strategic locations.

“Well that’s no fun!” Lisa says. Then her expression shifts. “So about that food… can I get it early?”

“Leaves more time for later,” Sam moves from around the counter and tickles Lisa in the ribs which makes her yelp. She shoves him off and walks towards the nearest restaurant, a place that has floor to ceiling windows that give a 270˚ view around the ship.

 _Cool,_ Sam thinks, and Lisa is already following the hostess to their table for two. It’s by the massive window, as per her request. Sam faintly follows her, wondering as always how he managed to get Lisa Snart out on a date, and then _keeps_ managing to get her out on dates with him. Len has only threatened to kill him if he ever hurts Lisa what, fifteen times in this year alone? Sam knows he’s lucky, that’s for sure.

“Sam! It’s Mark and Shawna!” Lisa shrieks and runs over to the other couple. Mark and Shawna are sitting at a table for four, so it’s convenient for Lisa and Sam to join them, even if Mark and Shawna hadn't originally intended it to be that way.

“Looks like an impromptu double date, eh Scudder?” Mark says as Sam moves in beside him. Lisa sits opposite of Sam, and Shawna sits opposite of Mark.

Lisa looks gleeful as she picks up the cocktail menu.

“As long as my girl is happy, I am too,” Sam says, picking up his own menu and sharing it with Mark since there are only two at the table. Shawna is already hurriedly making her selections while Lisa finishes perusing the cocktail menu.

Their waitress rushes over to take their orders shortly after.

“And what might I be able to get you all?” The waitress asks, “though, a small PSA, the kitchen is running a little slow today, so your food may take a little while longer to arrive.”

“That’s fine, we have time, right guys?” Lisa asks.

The others agree, and the waitress takes their orders quickly, and disappears.

~~~~~~~~~

Cisco is spinning around in one of the bridge chairs and he’s _very_ bored. He and Hartley have been co-captains of the _Fate of the Seas_ for a grand uneventful total of three hours. Cisco’s belly grumbles and he realizes he hasn’t had lunch yet.

“Hey, Hartley!” Cisco yells, startling the other man who was lounging and reading a book about nautical navigation.

“Yes, _Cisco?_ ” Hartley shouts back. “You don’t have to yell at me. It hurts my _ears._ ”

Cisco doesn’t think too much about it, but decides not to yell in the future. “You hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Hartley says.

“Do you think they’ll let us order room service to the bridge?” Cisco inquires.

Hartley laughs. “Probably not, but we do have a speedster on call.”

“He’d have to bring us out food in Tupperware or he’d spill it running,” Cisco points out.

“And your point is…?”

“I’ll text him,” Cisco says, and whips out his phone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Barry and Len have wind in their faces when Barry gets the text from Cisco. The two of them had been having a light conversation about whether Cisco or Hartley would win in a fistfight and they hadn’t called a winner yet.

“Cisco and Hartley want food,” Barry holds out his phone to Len so that the other man can read the text.

“What are you, room service?” Len asks.

“More like _bridge_ service.” Barry corrects. “It’s not like they can exactly go and get their own food. I’ll just take care of this, and then we can get back to our discussion.”

Len laughs, and Barry melts a little at hearing it, “It’s no big deal Barry, as long as we get to the Isle. It’s not like I won’t see you again.”

“Thanks!” Barry kisses Len on the cheek quicker than Len can blink, and Len is left facing a blushing speedster. Barry looks like he is about to run away, but then refrains for a reason Len can’t identify until—

“Snart,” Mick says from behind Len, who promptly smirks.

“What is it, Mick?” Len asks, turning to face his partner.

“First of all, Red I totally saw that,” Mick says and Barry makes a high-pitched noise of embarrassment. “Second, Leonard, the cheesecake is still terrible,” Mick munches on a piece of it regardless.

Len is confused, “You came all the way up here to tell me that the cheesecake isn’t up to your standards?” He crosses his arms.

“No, I came to show you this,” Mick pulls an envelope out of his pocket in between munches.

Len takes it and opens the flap. When he sees the page, he puts together the pieces immediately. Barry, who is standing across from him, doesn’t see the neatly scrawled letters on the paper until Len flips the paper around to show him.

~

 _The Captain of the_ Fate of the Seas _cordially invites_

_ Rory Calhoun _

_To dine with him this Eve at 8:00 PM._

_Dress: Formal_

_~_

“I can’t believe this,” Len says after Barry takes the card to look it over again and again. “ _You_ got asked to the Captain’s table before _me._ ”

“Snart…” Mick warns.

“Yes, I know,” Len waves a curt hand in Mick’s direction _._ “We should have taken this into account.”

“Len, we aren’t trained to run a cruise ship, things _will_ come up,” Barry tries to soothe him by placing a hand on his arm, but Len isn’t capable of having that right now. “But what is this exactly?”

Len sighs. “It’s an invitation to the Captain’s table. It’s when the Captain and select crew dine with a group of guests of their choice. They receive a special menu personally cooked by the head chef himself. Invitations are sent out the day of, and it’s a very coveted event.”

“But we don’t have a Captain,” Barry states obviously.

Len squints his eyes. “That’s the _problem,_ Barry.”

Barry tries again to comfort him. “We can’t prepare for everything, Len. The former captain must have already submitted the names before they’d been kidnapped. We’ll just have to stage it.”

“Sure, but how are we supposed to—”

“Snart, Hartley can do it.” Mick suggests before Len can overthink it, his voice easy. “The Piper is a _Rathaway,_ he knows how to deal with all kinds of people.”

Instantly, Len questions Mick’s proposition. “I could see him able to talk to a group of politicians at a fancy dinner, but you think _Hartley Rathaway_ has the social skills to _grift_ a table of people into thinking he’s actually the captain of this _multi-million dollar_ cruise ship?”

Mick laughs. “Think about what you’re saying,” Len looks slightly taken aback, but if there is one person who can come close to telling Len what to do _and_ be rude while doing it, it’s Mick. “Most of the people in Piper’s former social class are sociopaths in one way or another,” Mick says without care to who he may be offending. “The kid’s trained to fake lively conversation and inspire artificial happiness for the sake of a good time to keep the peace between his family and the next. He’s got this one.”

Mick and Barry can see the gears in Len’s head turning, processing the new information and coming up with solutions accordingly. “Mick, knew I kept you around for something,” Len half-smiles and half-smirks. Mick scoffs and Len follows Mick’s train of thought to its conclusion. “Piper can play our interim captain, say he’s standing in while the real captain is busy in the bridge and we can say the same about the other crew that would normally sit at the Captain’s Table. Everyone can have a peaceful night, and none will be the wiser.”

Mick finishes his last bite of cheesecake and crumples up the plate he’d been using. “Boss, we still have to make sure Hartley’s actually up to it.”

Len smirks. “Oh, he’ll be up to it.”

~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you’re putting me up to this,” Hartley’s standing in the bridge with Barry and Len, trying not to completely lose it. “I’m supposed to be up here, away from the crowds, away from _the noise._ ”

Len’s _slightly_ sympathetic.

But this situation doesn’t call for sympathy.

“It’s one dinner, Rathaway,” Len simplifies it, careful not to step any closer to the other man. Not every moment is about intimidation. “You get to eat an amazing meal, talk to some interesting people if the former Captain judged correctly _and_ you don’t have to be stuck in a room with Cisco for two hours.”

The aforementioned shoots a glare in Len’s direction, arms crossed, but doesn’t say anything. Cisco is tired and the exhaustion is fast catching up to him. Based of Hartley’s irritability, Cisco would say he’s in a similar state of mind.

“It’s been _years_ since I’ve had to do something even remotely similar to this _,”_ Hartley says. “Even then, I wasn’t faking being the captain of a major cruise ship!”

“You can handle it,” Len crosses his arms much like Cisco and counters. “It might even be fun.”

Hartley lets out a sigh of frustration, running out of objections. “And what happens if I can’t keep it up?”

“You will,” Len says. “I have a small amount of blind faith in you, Piper. Don’t make me regret it.”

Hartley gulps. He hadn’t been expecting that. Hartley inwardly curses his weakness for constantly trying to achieve perfection in and effort to avoid soul-crushing disappointment. But this was _Leonard Snart._ Why would he even _care_ what he thinks of Hartley? More importantly, why is Hartley suddenly getting a ridiculously stupid urge to prove Len right?

Hartley’s head spins. He needs to go back to therapy.

“Cisco!” Len shouts outside of Hartley’s awareness.

Cisco startles and jumps in his chair. “ _Yes?”_

“Can you make sure the ship doesn’t crash for two hours?”

“No promises,” Cisco says, attempting to readjust himself into a more nap-friendly position. Cisco turns to Barry, happier addressing him than Len. “I’ll send out an alert if something goes wrong, but it should be fine. It _better_ be fine,” Cisco grumbles the last few words, but Barry understands them regardless.

Barry nods, grateful they’ve made it this far. “I’ll keep my phone on me, like always.”

Len starts pointing towards the door, mouthing something that Barry hardly understands.

“Uh, Len and I are gonna go check on the others,” Barry says.

Cisco whistles suggestively as Barry picks up Snart and flashes away, and Hartley calms visibly in their wake. The Piper sits back down and slumps in his chair, grateful the leader of the Rogues is gone.

Noticing this, Cisco asks, “Are you _scared_ of him?” His voice is careful and hesitant, and he immediately adds, “I mean, I am, so it’s okay if you are—”

“Of course I am!” Hartley turns to him, something within him snapping. “Do you know how many people he killed _before_ the Flash came along and made him agree to stop? And even _after_ the Flash talked some sends into him, he somehow managed to get every major supervillian in Central City to answer to him. And when they _don’t_ bad things happen. That’s a _lot_ of power, Cisco, and the very idea of not doing what he wants sickens me.”

Cisco feels something like sympathy after Hartley finishes speaking, remembering for the second time today what it felt like to be on the wrong side of Leonard Snart. “Well, for the record, we here at Team Flash don’t care about what Snart says, and—”

“I’m not joining your merry gang of misfits,” Hartley says before he can think.

“Was I offering?” Cisco shoots back, honestly intrigued as how Hartley had come to _that_ conclusion.

“Well, no…” the other trails off, much to Cisco’s amusement. Hartley stays silent until he can put back on his sarcastic bravado and appear as if he has his life together. He clears his throat. “So, uhh—What do you know about this whole Captain’s Table thing?”

Cisco graciously accepts the subject change. “Not a clue, just what Len told you.”

“I’m just praying that some ridiculously smart young child doesn’t ask incessant questions about mechanics.”

“But you know about mechanics—”

“—not the _point,_ Cisquito,” Hartley says, though it’s more exasperated than annoyed. Hartley’s just tired. He rubs his eyes and picks up a checklist. “Let’s just make sure this ship is in tip top shape by the time I leave.”

Cisco lets the last word lay with Hartley and also grabs a checklist, idly wondering how their lives might have turned out if Team Flash had gotten to Hartley before the Rogues.


	23. No Shit, Sherlock (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the crew is starting to get answers to what the hap is fuckening on the _Fate of the Seas_. 
> 
> This time around, Cisco's playlist includes [Book Biter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goTGlwFEFho) by Matt Lange for analysis music and just general build music.

Barry and Len reconvene with Mick, letting him know that Hartley had in fact agreed to dine with the select few passengers. With that out of the way, Len figures it’s time to get everyone back together for the Second Annual Meeting of Competent Idiots™.

“I’ll get the rest of the Rogues. We can patch in Hartley and Cisco from up here.” Len orders, gesturing to his phone. He starts typing avidly and Barry can hear Mick’s phone going off, firework noises both his ringtones _and_ text tones.

“I’m messaging the rest of Team Flash now,” Barry says, almost missing the Team Flash Group Chat while scrolling because Cisco had renamed it to _Not the Rogues._ “Let’s just get this over with,” Barry says, his patience growing thin.

“You know, Red, if you were currently my enemy—” Mick begins.

“I am _not_ friends with you,” Barry says a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his phone. Len chuckles from next to him and Barry looks up long enough to shoot him a glare to counter Len’s trademark smug smirk.

Mick, of course, laughs with Len, the sound coming from low in his throat. “Kid, you’ve kissed my partner and done god knows what else. I don’t think I qualify as an enemy right now.”

“Acquaintance then,” Barry negotiates, face red, currently trying to avoid thinking about the god-knows-what-else that Len and Barry _have_ done.

“Okay, if you weren’t currently my _acquaintance,”_ Mick emphasizes the word to insure its correctness, “I’d be a little more _hotheaded_ in saying that you better not hurt Leonard. Kapiche?”

“Yeah, got it,” Barry tells him, finally raising his head after finishing his texting purge. “But we’re not even—”

Mick actually holds up a hand to stop him from talking. “Don’t. Hurt. Him.”

Barry nervously gulps in lieu of another reply that would inevitably get cut off as well.

Mick nods, a smile crossing his features that puts Barry on edge. “Good,” Mick says, clapping him on the back. Barry’s muscles stiffen but he lets it happen. “Now, the others need to get here. I’m getting hungry and when I’m hungry I get impatient, and you don’t want to see me when I’m impatient.”

Len comes to Barry’s rescue by pulling him close by an arm around his waist. “He usually lights things on fire,” Len whispers.

 _Figures,_ Barry thinks, and silently urges everyone to hurry the fuck up.

~~~~~~~~~~

The others arrive before long and again, Len and Barry have to update everyone on yet _another_ situation.

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks, voice groggy from sleep. Iris is still wearing her slippers. Barry has Hartley and Cisco pulled up on Skype, and everyone else is crowded close by. The group is crowded in a hallway away from prying eyes and ears.

“Yeah, he’s serious,” Barry confirms. “We’ve talked to Hartley and he’s up for playing the part of the Captain.”

“He’s right,” Hartley says through the static. “Let’s just get this done and over with, already. It’s getting stifling in here with Cisquito always up my ass about something anyway _.”_

In the bridge, Hartley peers over to see Cisco quickly turning away his rapidly reddening face.

“Well, dinner actually has to _happen,_ Piper,” Len tells him. “You still have a few hours until you can ‘get it done and over with.’”

Hartley can almost hear Len’s air quotes.

“I think we might need to start our investigation early. I’m worried this is going to pull a butterfly effect and spiral out of our control if we don’t stop it soon,” Iris says, “this whole thing worries me.”

“You’re not the only one,” Caitlin says. She’s wrapped in a towel and shivering thanks to the air conditioner. She makes a nondescript nod in Harry’s direction and Harry prepares himself to speak.

Iris puts her hands on her hips. “Well, Investigation Crew,” Iris points to Eddie and Caitlin, “meet in front of the Team Flash Stateroom in twenty, anything else, Snart?” Iris asks.

“Actually, there’s something I would like to say,” Harry speaks up. “Before everyone gets all caught up in assigning roles, I’m saying that I’m going to investigate the captain’s quarters, and _Caitlin_ is going with me.”

Caitlin looks at him, as if she had been expecting this, and nods.

“I—I see no problem with that,” Iris says, looking around to the other and assessing the situation with an analytical eye. “You’re going with the divide and conquer approach, I see.”

Harry isn’t entirely amused and his face shows it quite well. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Iris stops talking right as Len uses the silence to his advantage.

“Shawna! Sam!” Len shouts suddenly, breaking the awkward quiet that had been there a second before.

The two aforementioned metahumans snap to attention.

“You’re with Team Flash investigating this _craptastic_ situation,” Len pauses, aims to continue, but is cut off by Mick.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Mick says, eying Len as he takes a breath to talk, and Len takes a step back to signal his approval of Mick’s suggestion. “Reflecto, I say you’re with the lesser Snowflake on this ship,” one corner of Len’s mouth turns up in a half-smile. The aforementioned Caitlin and Sam both flatten their faces, but don’t protest at their nicknames. “Knockoff Harrison Wells will go with you. Blink goes with Detective pretty face,” After Mick points at Shawna and and Eddie, his finger starts tracing the crowd, finally stopping on a sleepy Rainbow Raider. “Pinkeye, you too. Your _abilities_ may come in handy if you all need to interrogate anyone.”

“No one is getting interrogated!” Eddie states, though everyone else seems to be perfectly fine with Mick’s plans. It’s hardly a modification of the plan before, and is more of a natural conclusion to where their plans are headed anyway.

“Don’t speak too soon,” Bivolo says. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

“What are you going to be doing, Boss?” Mick says.

“Barry and I are going to make sure nothing else on this ship has gone awry, and go check on our lovely co-captains on the bridge and bring them a bagel or something.” Len answers dismissively.

“Bagels?” Hartley exclaims through static. One would think the thin walls of the ship—“Barry we could _hear_ you!”—would aid in cellular communication, but it’s the reverse that’s true. “Come _on.”_ Cisco tells Hartley bagels aren’t _that_ bad, and Barry realizes it’s only because Cisco is really hungry.

“With cream cheese,” Len adds.

“Make it reduced fat and I’ll forgive you until dinner,” Hartley says.

“Deal,” Len agrees.

Mick taps Len on the shoulder, and Len turns to him, “anything else, Boss?”

“Don’t burn the ship down!” Cisco yelps from the other side of the line, answering before Len can. Barry hears a noise of frustration—probably Hartley rather than Cisco—and Barry hangs up the call without warning the two co-captains.

“Enjoy yourself, Mick,” Len smirks. “Just don’t make it too hard on Piper during dinner.” Mick laughs in response and Len and Barry dismiss the rest of their respective groups.

~~~~~~~~

Barry shoots off a quick text to Cisco that bagels are on the way, and after speeding to the all-day breakfast bar, he grabs four. Then on second thought six, and piles an ungodly amount of—“yes, it’s reduced fat, you’re welcome Hartley”—cream cheese onto a plate that he covers with another plate so the spread doesn’t go everywhere when Barry’s running.

Len sees Barry, arms piled high with a makeshift late lunch, and speeds away to the bridge after grabbing two knives and some napkins. Barry crosses his fingers that nothing catches on fire during the run, not risking it even if either of the co-captains like their bagels toasted.

“Oh thank _god,”_ Hartley rushes forward as fast as his legs can take him, making sure every piece of equipment in his immediate vicinity is stable before going to get his bagels. The seas are calm. Everything should be fine for a minute.

Cisco takes one last look at his engine monitors, and joins Hartley in retrieving their lunch.

“Okay, he got two plain bagels, two blueberry bagels, and two cinnamon raisin bagels—” Hartley begins, already taking his share eagerly and shoving the rest into Cisco’s hands.

“—so we don’t have to fight over them.” Cisco finishes. “Nice one, Barry.”

Cisco nods to Barry, but the speedster already seems a little spaced out, and before Cisco can ask, Barry has phased through the door.

“Weird,” Hartley says before biting into a bagel.

But Barry is back seconds later, holding a glorious Twizzler bag and holding it out to Cisco who takes it eagerly.

“Cisco, seriously?” Hartley says once he sees the contents that Cisco is hugging with both arms, bagels momentarily forgotten. He’s lost count of the amount of things over the years that Hartley has seen Cisco chewing on, munching on, sucking on—

Hartley swallows.

“Old habits die hard,” Cisco defends, graciously pulling Hartley’s attention away from his thoughts. “I’ll share if you’re nice to me.”

Hartley looks conflicted for a moment, but eventually straightens. “Okay, maybe you as my co-captain isn’t so bad.”

“I know,” Cisco says with a grin, and starts munching on his Twizzlers. Hartley would be lying if he says he isn’t even slightly comforted by the familiarity of Cisco’s ridiculous oral fixation.

Barry salutes them, and both salute back, and then the speedster is gone in a wave of lightning.

~~~~~~~~~

“I feel like I should have a magnifying glass or something,” Iris says once Eddie, Roy, and Shawna had gathered to investigate. They’re huddled in the hallway outside of Team Flash’s stateroom.

Eddie laughs at Iris’s offhanded comment. “It would be a good look on you,” Eddie says. “The Adventures of Iris West. Like Sherlock Holmes but better.”

“Well, according to Barry my Earth-2 counterpart _is_ a police detective. But my dad also isn’t one, so there are trade-offs,” Iris says.

“Speaking of, he would be helpful with this,” Eddie suggests for not the first time since the captain had gone missing, a slight level of annoyance that Iris _hadn’t_ spoken to her father about their situation evident in his voice.

“You _know_ he would turn the ship around the second he found out, and that’s what _they_ want, so we can’t let it happen,” Iris says, still a little sad that she has to hide this from her father. Wally and Iris had talked about whether or not they were going to tell Joe—Barry had advised against it—and both opted to keep their mouths shut, for the moment.

Eddie just gives Iris a long hug in lieu of a verbal reply.

“Well let’s get going unless you two are going to start making out right here under the pretense of some weird role-reversal Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler ship-fic,” Shawna says, arms crossed.

Eddie seems slightly offended. He opens his mouth to speak, but Roy talks before he can, clearly trying to distract from Shawna’s comment.

“Any ideas where we are headed, _Detective Thawne?_ ” Roy asks.

Eddie sheds his misgivings and shifts himself easily into _detective_ mode, easily taking up the mantle that only he can carry in such a situation. “In investigations I’ve done back at Central City with missing persons, sometimes we go a look at security footage. I suggest we start there, since Barry already checked the bridge for clues.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t miss anything?” Roy is skeptical, and given his loyalties lie on the villainous side of the moral spectrum, Eddie doesn’t blame him for asking.

Iris answers the question. “Barry is a forensic scientist and the best in the CCPD,” she says proudly, “he graduated in the top 5% of his class, and has two degrees: one in physics and one in chemistry. Given nine times out of ten he’s caught clues no one else has, including my dad and my fiancé,” Eddie silently confirms the claim with a nod. “I think we can trust him.”

Shawna backs Iris up, “She’s right, he’s good at what he does.”

“Alright then. Shawna?” Iris asks, taking charge. Eddie’s okay with it.

“Yeah?”

“Snart said he made you all memorize the deck plans, any chance you can teleport us to the security office?” Iris asks.

“You would make a great Rogue,” Roy says under his breath.

Iris ignores _that, “Can_ you Shawna?”

“Of course,” Shawna rolls her eyes, “but what’s the plan when we get there?”

“Bivolo, make everyone okay with us telling them what to do, you can do the Jedi mind trick, right?” Iris asks.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

Iris looks to Eddie, blinking her eyes twice. Eddie responds in kind. Cisco had outfitted every member of Team Flash with emergency metahuman defense kits and go-bags. One of the most recent additions had been a pair of Rainbow Raider-proof contacts. They can adapt to whatever color Roy’s eyes turn to and in response, the contacts fire a different color into the wearer’s eyes that cancel out the emotion that Roy sends.

They also provide more visibility than the mirrored contacts Cisco had insisted they wear before, or the bulky—and incredibly obvious—glasses before that.

After everyone’s ready, Iris turns to Shawna, a mischievous glint in her eyes and says, “do your worst.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shawna is panting by the end of her repeated teleportations, but otherwise, she’s entirely fine. Blinking from the end of one hallway to another for each person had been understandably tiring.

“You good?” Roy says having expected her growing exhaustion and prepared to help her if needed.

Shawna gives him a solid thumbs up, too concentrated on catching her breath to speak.

Iris looks to the three Rogues, not believing what she’s about to say.

She takes a breath. A deep, deep breath. “Which one of you wants to pick this lock?” She says, gesturing to the clearly bolted door in front of them.

Shawna and Roy exchange _looks_ and then Roy glances at Iris like she’s especially stupid. After taking out a lock picking kit, kneels down to do his worst. Roy does his best to stay quiet, but the most he can reduce the lock picking to is a few clicks. When Roy finishes, he stands, and Eddie carefully hovers his hand over the knob, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’ll open the door, Roy, do your thing,” Eddie instructs. The others acknowledge him by wordlessly nodding, and Eddie grips the knob, quickly opening it in one fluid motion.

Inside are three security guards, and Roy takes account of them quickly. He waits until they notice the group’s presence, and before long, one of them is turning around and shouting a surprised, “Hey!”, already moving into action.

“What are you doing here? You aren’t—” the standing man began.

Roy looks at him and lets a fog cloud his eyes. The fog is stark white right before it turns the color he’s looking for. He shifts it to red first—the color that’s easiest to call up—and then flashes away from it quick into a pale sky blue, the color of complacency.

“Shhhhhh,” Roy says to the man, his eyes radiating pure blue from the security guard’s perspective. But the time Roy has subdued the first, the other two are already coming towards the group.

Shawna backs up, and Eddie tugs Iris closer, but Roy just smirks and does his worst.

“We aren’t intruders, and we aren’t here to hurt you,” Roy tells the three now pale blue-eyed security officers. Their trance is the farthest from subtle and every one of them is hanging on Roy’s every word. “Now, me and my friends are going to go inside your office, take a look at some security footage, and see if we can find what we’re looking for,” Roy’s voice is eerily calm and far too steady. “When we’re done, we will leave, and you’ll never have any need to tell anyone. Nothing will be important enough,” he pauses. “Sound good?”

“It sounds good,” they say in monotone unison, and it’s really, _really_ creepy. Iris is grateful that Team Flash is working _with_ the Rogues and not _against_ them.

Shawna blinks into the room with ease. Or, at least it looks that way until the group sees she’s a little more worn out than before…

…right before she collapses on one of the desks.

Eddie is prepared to call for a doctor, and whips out his phone. Iris immediately runs over. “Shawna! Are you alright?”

Shawna’s holding up her hand to Eddie, stalling his actions before she talks. After a moment, she speaks, and it’s a jumble of words. “It’s fine. It happens sometimes. You see, when I’m transporting my whole body somewhere, it’s putting strain on every cell. Some of those cells make energy that I need to live. Tax a _little_ bit of everything at once for one instant and I’m fine, but do it fifteen or sixteen times and I’m rapidly losing energy.”

“So you just need to eat something?” Eddie says.

“And drink something. Maybe Gatorade, if you have access to some,” Roy says, but something clicks in his head. “Mick sometimes makes her big batches of a glucose solution—with the occasional hint of cayenne pepper—to keep around the safe houses. We’ve brought them on heists before… Shawna?”

“Hmmm?” She manages.

“Did you bring any of that stuff Mick makes you?” Roy asks, mentally crossing his fingers like any rational teammate would do.

“The Fire Juice? Yeah, I have some of that.” She says. It’s in my carry-on.

“Can you walk?” Roy asks.

“Maybe in a little while…but not right now.”

Roy sighs. Eddie glances at him. “How often does this happen?”

“Enough that our leader made rules about her blinks,” Roy says. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. Mark is so much better at dealing with this than me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ _Scudderrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!”_ Caitlin screams, holding Sam’s hand like a lifeline, because, well, it _is_ her lifeline. The swirling reflective-but-not-reflective-at-the-same-time _stuff_ of the mirror dimension is so far beyond disorienting that if Caitlin were to quantify it, there would be infinite repetitions of “very” in front of the word at best.

The weirdest thing of all is that she _can’t feel anything._ Sam is guiding Caitlin and Harry through the mirror dimension and it’s like they’re swimming through air that still keeps them afloat like water. Caitlin screams again and she can feel Harry tighten his iron grip around Caitlin’s arm.

“Calm. Down. Snow,” comes a gruff and very I’m-done-with-your-shit voice that can only belong to Earth-2 Harrison Wells.

“I’m trying! You try flying—” Caitlin stops her words before she can finish the statement, but it’s already out in the open. “Just give me a break, _Harry!_ Not all of us find interdimensional travel easy _and_ do it on a regular basis!”

“ _This is different,”_ Harry barks out. “I never said I was having a good time!”

“Shut up you two! I’m trying to find the room and I’m not going to be able to if you two won’t stop bickering!” Sam snaps, moving a little faster, and is tempted to just let go of the two of them, let them get lost in here, and come back for them later.

…no, he’s better than that now.

At least, that’s what Lisa would say. What’s _actually_ is going on is that he’s just afraid of Lisa’s frigid-tempered brother enough to change his ways. He’s starting to figure out that Snart’s rules maybe aren’t all that bad after all.

Sam makes the executive decision to keep dragging the two temporary nutcases behind him through _his_ world and—

 _There. There’s the room._ Sam thinks, seeing the right mirror door in the distance. “Alright brace for impact you two!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry and Caitlin scream together.

“Go through the big one. The small ones are just…. Not fun unless you’re trying to prank a friend at a sleepover,” Sam says, trying to be helpful, but also smug because he _knows—_

Sam steps out of the mirror on the back of the stateroom door to the Captain’s quarters effortlessly.

They come falling out of the mirror, one on top of the other, screaming one final time and making far too much noise. They separate to fall next to each other, soon flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling.

To say they’re upset with Sam’s lack of warning would be an understatement.

“I probably should have told you to step down as you exit though a wall mirror,” Same supplies unhelpfully.

“Yes, you should have!” Caitlin shrieks. Sam can see redness that will grow into a bruise on her shoulder where she’d fallen on it not a minute ago. “That would have been very helpful!”

“I should have considered it,” Harry says, simultaneously beating himself up while trying to avoid making any sounds that would indicate he’s in any level of pain right now. Of course, he landed hard on his hip, so he’s experiencing some discomfort. “But it looked like a door, and our feet had lined up with the bottom of the mirror, and by the time we realized what was happening…” He throws his arms up and lets them fall back down to the ground. “You know the rest.”

“I’ve done it many times,” Sam says, crouching down to their level since neither of the fallen really want to get up right now. “And fallen half of those times.”

Sam pats Caitlin’s leg twice and then stands up, holding out his hand. “What do you say we knock this investigation out and go for drinks?” Sam looks to Harry, who, seems shocked at the prospect of being included.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Caitlin says. “After reporting our results of course.”

“Of course,” Sam echoes, turning his head to look at Harry. “And what about you?”

“I could go for a nice glass of scotch, yes.”

Caitlin smiles, Sam laughs, and all three of them finally take a look at what’s around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me, and to everyone who awaited my return, thank you so much. You guys are the best and the journey of this fic has been a crazy one. 
> 
> Parts of why I was gone are...
> 
> 1) I was traveling and forgot to tell you. I'm actually currently goofing around in Europe, and will be for a little while longer, and I have to prepare for a convention when I get home in August (Otakon, yay!). Of course, I will try to update, because big things are happening and I have drafts of the next few chapters, I just have to take the time to edit them. I want to post my best work. I want to give you guys all I can give, and that takes time. But you guys are worth it. Always, _always_ worth it. 
> 
> 2) This chapter was hard. I suddenly found a few plotholes and had to ask the people who care about this plot and its progression how to continue, because it was bringing me great difficulty. As it stands, I've figured it out, and guys, I am SO EXCITED TO SHOW YOU!!!! 
> 
> Other than that, I just needed a break. Life happens. No matter what, it's going to knock you on your butt every now and then. I've tried to relax a little, and you should too. 
> 
> Stay frosty! 
> 
> Until next time,  
> Wyn


	24. No Shit, Sherlock (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally edited this on my flight back to the States from Europe and posted in the airport. If you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know. 
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be shorter. But, as usual, opportunity strikes and I let myself be struck :)

“I promise I’m fine,” Shawna insists when Eddie continues to try and take care of her. She waves him off, repeatedly, until Iris gets the hint and tells him to stop. Shawna herself is avidly moving through the security footage, even if her head is slumped over the desk like a zombie.

“She’ll be fine,” Iris says quietly. “She’s even doing more work than you.” Obviously taking offense to this, Eddie walks over and more furiously analyzes the tapes. Shawna isn’t inept, she just isn’t trained in the same way Eddie is. As such, Eddie doesn’t shove her off the consoles—as much as he wants to for the sake of her health—but instead sits down in the chair next to her so that they can examine the footage together while the others stand by.

“Are you pulling up the bridge?” Shawna begins.

“You bet I am. And you’re—”

“—pulling up the engine room?” Shawna finishes for him, smirking. “You bet I am.”

“Bridge first.”

“Good plan.”

Eddie slams down the final key, aiming to be dramatic and succeeding at doing so. Within seconds, the video feed from the bridge occupies all six monitors in the security room. They’re automatically presented with a live view, where, predictably, Hartley is bickering with Cisco.

~~~~~~~~~

“…You know, I’ve been to Italy, like _actual_ Tuscany,” Hartley says, pretending to examine the underside of one of his fingernails. “Where they have _real_ Italian food.”

“Look, I’ve _had_ real Italian food!” Cisco snaps back, voice significantly louder than Hartley’s. Cisco hates how he acts like he doesn’t care about anything. “But that doesn’t invalidate the deliciousness! It’s not about being genuine it’s about being tasteful!”

Maybe tasteful is the wrong choice of words.

“ _Tasteful?_ You’re telling me you think _Olive Garden breadsticks_ are tasteful?” Hartley has quit faking his fingernail examination and is now quirking a brow at Cisco with a look in his eyes that—if Cisco is being honest with himself—is a little scary.

Cisco will be damned if he doesn’t stand by the sacred carbohydrate-stuffed deliciousness that is Olive Garden breadsticks.

“Dip them in their generic marinara and you could _eat that for dinner alone,”_ Cisco says. “I don’t care what Italian city you take me to, nothing beats those breadsticks.”

“Francisco Ramon,” Hartley says. “You are an abomination.”

Then Hartley says one of the many sentences Cisco _hates._

“You know,” Hartley’s voice is quiet, inviting Cisco to prick his ears. “If we’re going with the best carb-filled appetizers, Red Lobster’s cheddar biscuits are miles better than Olive Garden’s breadsticks could ever hope to achieve.”

Cisco knows it’s a trap. He knows Hartley is baiting him. But, but, _but_ Hartley had just insulted the—

He takes a deep, deliberate breath and accepts his fate. “Hartley! How dare—”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why am I not surprised?” Eddie mumbles as he starts cranking dials, shaking his head as the bickering duo is replaced with visual noise. “Cisco said that the ship stopped around 0400hrs this morning, so I’m rewinding the feed to that point.”

There’s unresolved static on all screens until Eddie reaches his goal, and then the footage becomes clearer. On the monitors the group has a near 360˚ view of the bridge, providing multiple angles of the captain and his immediate crew. Nothing seems to be amiss at first glance.

“We’ll go through once or twice on regular speed and slow down once we pinpoint where they start disappearing,” Eddie states. “That’s the general procedure of how we do it on official investigations.”

The others make varying noises of approval, and then all eyes are back on the feed. The moment the clock strikes 0400hrs, the captain is _gone._ Iris gasps, not a surprising response given how unsettling the footage is.

One crewmember looks as if he notices, but he disappears next, so the group can’t confirm whether or not he had seen what happened.

Before long, the bridge is empty.

“Time elapsed, fifty-two seconds,” Eddie tells them, already preparing to replay.

“That… that was not what I pictured,” Iris says.

“But it is close to what Harley described,” Eddie brings up.

Shawna gets impatient after Eddie and Iris share a hug. “Come on Detective Pretty Face. We need to stay on track,” Shawna snaps her fingers in Eddie’s general vicinity, and while he glares straight ahead, he knows that they _do_ need to stay on track.

Eddie reverses the video, slowing it down to half-speed and focusing on the disappearances: the expressions of the captain, the movement of the crew, anything that would help.

No result.

Eddie slows it down more, at an eighth of the speed it should be.

No result. Shawna groans, recovered enough from her blinking to be able to lift up her head and let it drop again for unnecessary emphasis. Roy leans a little farther back against the wall.

“There’s one more setting,” Eddie says, putting in the command. “Last try.”

“Let’s hope it works I’m sick of this,” Shawna says to the desk.

Eddie clicks the play button, and lets it roll.

It doesn’t take long before Iris has her hand over her mouth to stifle a shout, Eddie already moving to rewind the Captain’s disappearance.

“Wh—what was that?” Shawna asks, referring to their newest discovery and their only lead.

A tiny, white, flash.

The security feed is in grainy black and white. Because of this, the group doesn’t get a _clear_ look at the moment before the Captain goes missing. But they do get _a_ look.

In the instant before the captain disappears, there’s a small flare of white emanating from his left shoulder. It’s only there for a second, and then it’s gone.

“It looks like a white light,” Roy says, pushing off from the wall. He leans towards the frozen frame that Eddie has thrown up on the screen. It’s an angle that shows the front of the Captain—and the back of the bridge—and gives the group the best shot of the odd bright flash. “Eddie, I can take pictures with my phone—”

“—we can’t conduct an investigation with phones!” Shawna protests.

“We don’t have a _choice_ Baez,” Roy grits out, and then whips out his phone to start snapping images, not giving her another chance to argue. “Eddie, I think we should look at the other disappearances now too. If they have a similar phenomenon then we might have something to go off.”

“True,” Eddie un-pauses the feed after Roy shows Eddie the picture. It’s satisfactory. “As opposed to a lens flare. We should also email these photos to Hartley and Cisco. They might be our best shot at piecing it together.”

“There’s no might,” Roy says. “They _are_ our best shot at piecing this together _.”_

Eddie nods, not commenting further because he’s made it to the second disappearance in the feed.

The good news is that there is another white flash.

The bad news is that the flash originates from the crewmember’s neck, not their shoulder.

“It’s still data,” Iris stays hopeful. “We’re getting somewhere.”

They run the same routine with the other disappearances. Eddie takes some time to pause the shot at just the right time before the crewmember is gone. He gets the best angle of the white flare in action and finally, Roy takes a careful picture with his phone. When they’re done they have just over a dozen quality shots to send Cisco and Hartley.

Roy is about to press the send button when Eddie stops him. “Not yet,” Eddie says. “We need to see if the engine room has similar results. We can’t be sure it’s not a freak occurrence with the cameras.”

It isn’t a freak occurrence with the cameras.

Roy presses the send button in full view of Eddie, just to rub it in that he’d been right the whole time, and Eddie lets him do it.

As the group leaves the security room, they can only hope that the cruise ship Wi-Fi is enough to send the giant email that’s headed towards the co-captains.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“The Captain’s quarters are even smaller than ours,” Caitlin says. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Snow, the fact that you can _walk_ in your room means that it’s possible,” Harry brushes past her and begins to look around the room without disturbing anything.

It’s minimalistic—as is to be expected—and there’s a neat bed that’s smaller than a twin shoved in one corner with a dresser next to it. There’s a desk with stacks of papers and paperweights with luggage placed close by. The bathroom is right next to the door which is also small, and the wall mirror they’d ~~fallen out of~~ entered through is tacked onto the back of it.

“Where even are we?” Caitlin asks and quickly adds before either can make a joke, “I know we’re in the ship. What’s our location inside the ship?”

“As if I know,” Sam tells her. “You’re the one who gave everyone maps and stuff.”

“Snart literally made you memorize the deck plans!”

“Debatable.”

“How is that—”

“Snow! Scudder!” Harry shoots, taking on the role of the proverbial parent separating two fighting siblings. Caitlin and Sam freeze and quit yelling, and both a little pink after realizing they had been bickering so childishly, even if it had just been a moment. “Stay. On. Task. And before you ask, no, I haven’t found anything, you two just,” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just start looking.”

Even after half an hour of light looking, then another half hour of more thorough looking, neither Harry, Caitlin, or Harry find anything, leaving them empty handed when it comes to clues.

“I wish we had Barry back here,” Caitlin almost plops down on the bed, but remembers they aren’t supposed to leave any sign that they’d been there.

“Between the three of us we should have found _something_ though,” Sam moves towards the mirror. “Hopefully, the other group found information that could be helpful,” Sam points towards the mirror. “Time to go!”

Caitlin and Harry exchange glances of worry, but collectively shuffle to the mirror regardless, grabbing onto each other’s arms, and when Sam confirms they’re ready, pulls them into the mirror dimension once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Ding!_ Goes Hartley’s phone.

 _Ding!_ Goes Cisco’s phone.

Both of the co-captains look curiously at each other, and suspiciousness creeps into the room like bad air-conditioning.

Cisco opens up the email first—but only by seconds—and sees that Hartley had been included in the recipient list. And who is rgbiv52@gmail.com?

Roy.

Cisco laughs. “Hey, Hartley!” The other man peeks over at him, obviously having realized Cisco could see what he had been seeing.

“ _What?”_

Cisco points at his phone. “Want to put this up on a monitor and look at it?”

“Since when do you ask for my approval on things?”

“It’s not _approval,_ it’s being _nice.”_

Hartley smirks. “Since when are you being _nice_ to me?”

Cisco rolls his eyes and walks over to a monitor, checking for any video cables and disregarding Hartley’s snark. After connection his phone and pulling up the pictures, he holds out his hand to Hartley.

“You know where this is going, call the others?” Cisco says.

Hartley doesn’t give his phone to him, but he does dial Len’s number.

Cisco starts looking, clicking rapidly. The phone rings in the background.

“Any guesses?” Hartley says, holding the microphone out of direct earshot, leaving initial analysis to the other man.

“I have a few, but I could use your opinion,” Cisco says, eyes fixed on the screen.

Curiously, Hartley’s eyebrows go up, but he leans down, his shoulders inches from touching Cisco’s. “On what specifically? Because I have several as well.”

“This flash,” Cisco points out the surge of light on the Captain’s left shoulder. “It appears in the other photos too.”

“Could be a heavy alloy or heat activated flare,” Hartley supposes.

Cisco nods in consideration. “Roy said that the shots here were taken right before each person disappeared. I’m—”

“Oh, yeah, Snart, hello!” Hartley’s attention audibly shifts. He holds out an index finger to Cisco, indicating for him to wait a minute. “We got the photos, and we think we have some ideas.”

“Go on,” Len says from the other end of the line.

Hartley leans back down to Cisco’s level, and puts the phone on speaker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barry is leaning as close as he can to Len’s ear because _Len_ hasn’t put his phone on speaker yet. Len isn’t giving in, and Barry’s having none of it, dipping into the Speedforce and plucking the phone from Len’s hand, hitting the speaker button, and holding it out of Len’s reach.

“Hey, Cisco,” Barry says, dealing with a glaring Len who’s smart enough not to fight him right now.

“Barry!”

“Tell us what you’ve got?” Barry asks him.

“Well, here’s the thing, what I’ve got—”

“—what _we’ve_ got—” Hartley corrects.

“—Is concerning,” Cisco’s voice is quieter, indicating he’s holding the phone away from his mouth. “I wasn’t trying to take the credit Hartley! It’s a phrase!” There are some rapid movements on the other side of the phone, and Len and Barry wait patiently. “Okay, Barry, Hartley and I have both seen those flashes before, in one other place.”

There’s a pause that’s too long for Len’s liking. “Care to _elaborate,_ Ramon?”

“Give me a second! Sometimes things are hard to—”

“It looks like a dwarf star flare,” Hartley states impatiently, taking over. “Do you see the bullseye inner glow?”

“Yeah,” Barry says, looking at the pictures on his phone, zooming in, and then showing them to Len. “We see it.”

“That’s unique to dwarf stars and dwarf star alloys,” Hartley continues. “They’re extremely heavy substances so when they combust or are exposed to a heat source they produce that pinpoint glow with some characteristic light radiation around it.”

“But what could a dwarf star have to do with causing disappearances?” Len asks.

“That’s what we don’t know and need to find out,” Cisco states. “And I think I know exactly who were going to call…”

“Haircut,” Mick says from behind Len, sitting down next to him. “Of course we would have to ask him for help.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Cisco puts his phone away and makes a beeline for the Twizzlers. Without a second thought, he offers one to Hartley who takes one without hesitation.

“Thanks,” Hartley says, eagerly eating the sugary treat.

“Of course, I have to take care of my Co-Captain,” Cisco says, smiling, “and you really haven’t been all that much of a dick, so… you get a reward for your good behavior.”

Hartley turns red.

Cisco notices, and just offers Hartley another. He takes it without thinking twice.

~~~~~~~~~

Len and Mick decide they’re going to be ones to make the call to Ray, with Cisco and Hartley present to explain the results they’d obtained. Cisco is less than pleased at being in a room with three Rogues, but he’s far more comfortable now than he would have been four days ago.

“Let me give you his number,” Cisco holds out his hand to receive Len’s phone, but Len doesn’t move.

“I have it already,” Len throws a sly eye in Mick’s direction.

Mick sighs. “Winged girl made us all give her out numbers so we could have a Legends group chat.”

“…and you said _yes?”_ Cisco asks.

“The teambuilding ice breakers than Rip was suggesting we do instead were far more terrifying,” Mick answers, unable to avoid remembering the Ball of Questions™ incident and the things Rip made him do…

~~~~~~~

_Rip had gathered them all into the bridge of the Waverider. Sara, Mick, and Len are cliqued together, Ray is examining every piece of technology he can find, Jax is still somewhat mad at Stein for knocking him out, but has mostly gotten over it so they’re talking again, and the two Hawks are close to one another in light conversation._

_Rip storms in, clad in his ridiculously long duster with a blown up beach ball in his hands. The whole ball is covered in an almost unintelligible scrawl._

_“Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Since you all still don’t know each other very well, I figure we should try an Earth-1 method of breaking down awkward social barriers between yourselves. A question ball!”_

_“The only balls I’m questioning are yours, Time Dork,” Mick says gruffly and Sarah gives him a free high five._

_Rip turns pink but continues on, obviously spurred on by his determination that they all become the bestest of friends._

_“Ignoring that, Mr. Rory, I’m going to toss this ball around, and one of you will catch it,” Rip throws it straight upwards and grabs it. “Once you catch it, whichever question your right thumb lands on is the one you will answer for all of us.”_

_If there had been crickets on the Waverider they would have chirped. Instead, Gideon manufactures a cricket sound that fills the silence nicely._

_“Gideon, not helping!” Rip says curtly._

_“Sorry, Captain,” She says back and ends the cricket noises mid chirp._

_“Mr. Palmer, you look like you’d be a good person to start!” Rip tosses the ball, and Ray contemplates running away, but then it’s in his hands and he doesn’t know what’s happening._

_He lets out a weak smile as he reads out, “Pancakes or waffles? Um, waffles. Duh.”_

_The following argument teaches Rip how to effectively split his disorganized team into two even more disorganized teams._

_“Who do I throw it to?” Ray holds up the ball after the arguments die down._

_“Anyone you want!” Rip says, and Ray aims to throw it back to Rip. “Except for me,”_

_Ray throws it to Sandra, who turns the ball over to get a better look at her question. “Any interesting quirks? Well, besides what you all know about the hawk thing, I can count in Roman numerals forwards and backwards.”_

_She demonstrates and everyone claps._

_Sara gets the ball next. “Favorite Avatar book? Second one, duh.” Everyone agrees with her—thankfully avoiding another major split in an already divided team—and then the ball flies into Mick’s hands._

_“Favorite drink? Apple Cider,” Mick all but attacks Len with the ball._

_Len twirls his fingers to stabilize the ball, and reads, “A time you failed?” Len’s face flattens. “My first heist.” Len tosses it in Carter’s direction but Rip makes like a speedster and catches it first, throwing it back to Len._

_“Details, Mr. Snart. This is about getting to know each other!”_

_“Get to know me, by talking to me. Not getting me to answer questions off of a ball,” Len hands the ball to Sara and removes himself from the circle. Rip doesn’t try to stop him._

_“Weirdest place you kissed someone? Ooooh this is a good one,” Sara thinks for a moment, and then she’s talking and talking and talking…_

_“I was running a mission to retrieve an artifact in the Dead Sea. Someone intercepted me in the water, cut my oxygen mask, and we fought. It took longer than it should have for me to realize that they were an old flame of mine,”_

_The rest of the budding Legends are hanging on her every word._

_“I was going to start drowning soon if I didn’t do something, so I yanked their oxygen mask off and kissed them. Kind of like a weird assassin goodbye, you know?”_

_Nobody knows._

_“Needless to say I got the artifact and a new breathing supply,” Sara finishes._

_Everyone is silent and stunned, and Rip looks like he’s finally realized he’s in way over his head._

_Sara tosses the ball back to Len, who barely accepts it._

_“What’s your guilty pleasure?” Len’s tone is dry._

_Mick snickers, opting to answer for his partner. “His name’s Ba—” Len cuts him off by kicking Mick in the shin hard enough to make him stumble back._

_“Not your turn, Mick. I like watching speed-runs of video games,” Len says this to Mick but its still addressed to everyone. “It makes me_ happy _.”_

_“Wonderful, Mr. Snart!” Rip says. “Who hasn’t gone yet?”_

_Carter is stupid and raises his hand, which is soon holding the Ball of Questions™. “Okay, my thumb landed on favorite animal but that’s kind of cheating so I’m going to do the one next to it,” no one disagrees. “What did you want to be as a kid? In this life? Police officer for sure.”_

_The criminals in the room stifle laughs._

_Carter tosses the ball to Jax._

_“If you had to be a vegetable, what vegetable would you be? What kind of question is this?” Jax looks around, but no one offers him any help. “Okay, fine. I’d be a carrot.”_

_“Why?” Sara inquires._

_“I want to see better,” he answers. The group nods. It’s a valid answer._

_Jax throws it strongly at Stein, who just looks startled by the time he finds his question. “It’s just the same as Jefferson’s.”_

_“Say it, Grey!” Jax says. “Or I will for you.”_

_This obviously pushes Stein into action because he’s reading, “If you were a candy bar, which candy bar would you be? Do Smarties count?”_

_“No!” The whole group says together._

_“Snickers then,” everyone waits for an explanation, and Stein exhales because he can’t believe he actually got himself into this situation. “Because they taste delicious and I’m not me when I’m hungry. Clarissa also loves them so she always gives them to me during late might research sessions.”_

_Jax claps him on the back and everyone else claps too. Stein throws the Ball of Questions™ at Mick._

_“Say everyone’s name in the room,” Mick looks at Rip. “That’s not a question”_

_“Come on, Mr. Rory, it’s all in the spirit!”_

_Mick glares when he starts, pointing his finger at Rip first. “Doctor Whovian, Bird for Brains 1, Bird for Brains 2—”_

_Rip is not amused. “No, their real names.”_

_Mick strengthens his glare until he realizes he has an opportunity in his hands. “Fine, but I’m only doing this once, got it?”_

_Rip doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to._

_Mick smiles when he starts again, “Leonard, Sara, Carter, Ray…”_

~~~~~~~~~

Mick snaps back to the current reality. “Agreeing to a virtual room where Flame On Jr. can throw all of his dank memes was easy.”

“Plus I have a constant audience to test my cold puns on,” Len adds.

“And _my_ heat puns,” Len and Mick bump fists. “Just don’t get Snart started on the time Professor tried to convince his other half that rare Pepes aren’t actually rare.”

Cisco and Hartley both visibly cringe, and Len and Mick shake their heads in remembered disappointment.

“So you gonna dial it then?” Cisco looks to Len.

“All in good time, Kid,” Len says, and hits the call button.

It rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ring* 
> 
> *ring*
> 
> *ring*


	25. Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ring* 
> 
> *ring* 
> 
> *ring* 
> 
> "Hello?"

Ray picks up the phone on the last possible ring.

“Hello, this is Ray Palm—”

“Haircut,” Mick cuts him off. “It’s us.”

Pause.

“What do you mean by _us_ exactly?” Ray’s voice is hesitant, but given his experiences on the _Waverider_ with the two thieves, it isn’t wary without good reason.

“Me, Snart, Ramon is here—”

“—Oh, hi Cisco!”

“Hey, Ray!” Cisco says without thinking. Len shoots him a shut-up-right-now glare and Cisco quiets.

Mick continues before Ray can open up his obnoxious mouth again. “—and the Pied Piper. He’s here too.”

To the outsider, it must appear as if Cisco has been kidnapped, _again_ , and the three villains are about to ask Ray to pay his ransom.

“Hey, uhh,” Ray blabbers. “What are all of you guys doing together? Like are you just hanging out now, or…?” His voice fades to a mumble at the end of his question, and only months of having to deal with Ray on a time ship in space has Mick and Len able to understand him.

“It’s a long story,” says _everyone_.

“I’ve got time,” Ray says almost immediately. “I’m working on something, and while I’d normally watch a YouTube video, actual human interaction is nice.”

There’s a sudden faint _bang!_ From Ray’s end that sounds like he’s dropped something. There’s a low scuffling sound, and Mick asks, “Haircut, you alone?”

“Yes,” Ray answers instantly. “Just me and my suit and all of its issues.”

Mick gives Len the nod of approval to explain.

Len summarizes far too easily. “Ramon got some visions of a golden mask, and my _Rogues Gallery_ and I just _happen_ to want to steal the _exact_ same mask, so now we’re all on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic chasing after it because it’s the only way to get there.”

A thump and a _whack!_ Came through on Ray’s end. “Sounds like a mess,” he says absently. “But why did you call me…?”

Len sighs in disbelief that he’s about to say this. “ _Because_ someone kidnapped the captain, the engine crew, and who knows who else—”

“—you’re sure it wasn’t one of your Rogues?” Ray interjects, voice suspicious.

“Positive,” Hartley answers, and when everyone turns to look at him, he scoffs. “I’m still _here_ even if I’m quiet.”

Cisco mumbles something under his breath that earns him an elbow to his side, but it’s much softer now than the hard jabs Hartley would give him before.

“ _Thank you_ for that, Piper,” Len shuts up any further irrelevant conversation, and gets back to explaining. “Whoever took the crew members used what can only be a _dwarf star alloy—_ ”

“—we _suspect_ it to be a dwarf star alloy,” Cisco interjects before Ray can take it in and correct Len. “We aren’t sure, which is why we’re calling you.”

Silence.

More silence.

“…Ray?” Cisco is hesitant, leaning only slightly in the direction of the phone on the table.

Ray clears his throat on the other side of the phone. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just…horrified that someone would use such a good thing for such a sinister purpose.” Ray explains. “But hang on one second, I have to tighten something. Two seconds. Maybe three—”

“ _Haircut…”_ Mick warns.

“Okay okay!” Ray squeaks. “Just wait a moment!”

Everyone waits, hearing something akin to a blender before something makes impact with something else, and quite loudly at that.

“Okay!” Ray tells them when the noises stop. “Cisco—or Hartley—what evidence do you have?”

“We slowed down the footage of the disappearances we found through the CCTV monitors on the ship. Before each person vanished, a glowing white flare appeared somewhere on their body, indicating that a dwarf star alloy might be involved.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Ray pauses. “Can you send me a copy of that footage?”

“We only have freeze frames taken on smartphones because we had to sneak into security to get them,” Cisco supplies.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Ray reassures them. “I’ll work my magic and we will have this problem solved in a jiffy!”

Leonard can’t look at the phone. Hartley and Cisco both turn red out of secondhand embarassment, and Mick just gives up, face-palming with a sigh.

“Thanks, Haircut.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jesse and Wally do their best not the run to the fourteenth deck—the deck where all of the whirlpool hot tubs are—as fast as they can, being all too eager to make the most of their orders to ‘wait until further notice’ by choosing to spend the afternoon in a steaming, bubbly, hot tub.

Well, that is, until they round the corner, open the door, feel the rush of sweet and warm Caribbean air…

…to see Mark Mardon and Lisa Snart relaxing in one of the hot tubs.

“We can’t catch a break,” Wally whispers under his breath, just enough that Jesse can hear. He takes her hand, more out of protectiveness than romance, though that latter is why she held on. _“_ How is it that on a passenger cruise liner of four _thousand_ passengers we keep running into the people we are all trying to avoid?”

“It’s okay,” she squeezed his hand, already pulling him towards the only free available hot tub left on the deck. “We can just go here and put our backs to them. That should be okay, right?”

He’s supposed to say _yeah, that’s right,_ so naturally, he says, “no, we can’t turn our backs on villains, _especially_ on Rogues.”

Jesse sighs. Her father would kill her if he found out she’d nearly neglected the number three number one rule: _don’t turn your back on your enemy._

Even though some of the Rogues aren’t really _that_ bad. After all, Len and Barry are a thing now, Cisco and Hartley haven’t killed each other yet and are presumably getting along…

Jesse leads Wally over the free hot tub, and she slips easily into the water. She pulls Wally in after her, bubbles creating the wary illusion that everything is alright, until a _flash!_ And a _shock!_ pull them out of their idealistic constructs.

Wally, immediately knowing what and who is to blame for this, fixes his furious gaze on Mark, who has the hand he’d used to shock them still raised. He’s smirking excessively while Lisa giggles, and Wally wants to scream.

Jesse grabs his arm—which he hadn’t known was raised—and murmurs words to help him relax and ignore the villains.

“Maybe they won’t do it again,” Jesse says softly.

She’s not quiet enough. “You sure about that?” Comes Mark’s voice from the other hot tub. Another flash and shock later, Jesse is yelping and throwing a glare at Mark along with Wally, who had barely stifled a yelp of his own.

“You can’t do that!” Jesse says helplessly. “ _That’s not fair._ We’re supposed to be peaceful and _you_ aren’t supposed to use your powers! _”_

“The world ain’t fair, hun,” Mark answers with another subtle shock that once again again, no one else seems to notice and leaves Jesse and Wally exasperated.

“Come on, Mark, just let us all relax. It’s been a long day,” Wally reasons. “A _really_ long day.”

“What if this is helping me relax?” Mark twirls his fingers, and Jesse flinches. Lisa even seems surprised, like he’s gone too far.

Wally absolutely thinks he has. “Alright, I’ve had enough!” Wally grabs Jesse’s arm lightly, and she takes it as a signal to leave the hot tub and go wherever Wally is leading them…

…Which is right in front of the hot tub that Mark and Lisa occupy.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Lisa logically follows the current set of events to completion. “Look what you’ve done now, Mark!” She gives him a shove and he lets it happen, dumbfounded at Jesse and Wally’s… courage? Tenacity? _Bravery?_

Jesse and Wally take their stunned silences as an advantage and simultaneously slip into the hot tub opposite of the two Rogues. After a minute, the two finally make an effort to relax.

Wally fixes Mark with a triumphant glare, easing back into the warm bubbles. “Can’t risk shocking yourself, can you?” Wally says to Mardon.

Mark opens his mouth to speak, fails, tries again, and finally gives up altogether.

“That’s what I thought,” Wally concludes. “Now, let’s all take a breather, shall we?”

Lisa and Mark exchange nothing but nervous glances for the next five minutes, but after that make a small effort to calm down and enjoy what the _Fate of the Seas_ has to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back on the bridge, Len and Mick are supervising Hartley and Cisco as they engage in a heated discussion about lights and stars.

“—but if it’s just an ore it wouldn’t flare like that!” Cisco says.

“Yes, but if it’s entirely alloy it _also_ wouldn’t flare like that,” Hartley snaps back. “It would have to at least contain _some_ ore!”

“But it still has to have a way to start a combustion reaction—” Cisco muses.

“And an accelerant!” Ray adds. “Something would need to light it _and_ sustain the reaction.”

“But that’s only if it’s actually combustion related.”

Ray is adamant in suggesting that it is. “I don’t know what else it could be. And I don’t know what else would make that flare.”

“Could be another material altogether,” Hartley says quietly, much to everyone trying to _avoid_ saying that because they don’t want to go back to square one.

Cisco turns his head to Hartley and meets the other man’s eyes, and there isn’t anger or defiance or disappointment, just weariness. “I’m hoping it’s dwarf star.” Cisco says to Hartley.

“Me too,” Hartley replies, wiping his own eyes tiredly after seeing Cisco’s.

They’d forgotten Ray had been there. “Me three!” He says. “But if you _know_ that’s what it is, what does that mean you’re going to do next?”

Len and Mick, who have been sitting on the sidelines because all of the physics and science talk is a little too… technical for their tastes—they stick to their guns as the most science they’re willing to do in one day—step forward, closer to the phone.

“We’re probably going to try and use that to figure out who’s behind this,” Len says. “ _Someone_ out there has to be using dwarf star alloys besides you. We just need to find them and get them to return the crew.”

“So that _we_ can stop doing something we aren’t really qualified to do,” Cisco narrowly misses a glare from the other co-captain.

“— _I’m_ qualified, _you_ aren’t.” Hartley says.

Cisco doesn’t disagree. “Well, _whatever,_ it is, I want to get back to my cruise. I want to get that mask. _And then I want to go home.”_ Hartley can hear the bone-deep tiredness in Cisco’s voice. The more-than-normal desperation that comes with a little more than a simple lack of sleep. Hartley wonders briefly just how bad Cisco’s vibes might really be? That they would cause bloodshot eyes, irritability, and rushed thinking.

There’s silence again until Ray speaks up.

“Well, if there isn’t anything else, I’m going to go and get back to work,” he says. “You know how to reach me!”

Ray hangs up before any of the others can say anything.

“Well at least we know it’s a dwarves start thingy,” Mick says.

“ _Dwarf star alloy,”_ Hartley corrects.

Mick pins him with a glare before cocking a grin. “I _know,_ I just like fucking with you.”

Hartley flushes, embarrassment clear, and Cisco points his eyes to the ground before smiling in satisfaction. Mick just went up several rungs on Cisco’s coolness ladder.

“ _Anyway,”_ Len twirls his fingers. “We should update the others and start brainstorming. One of us has to know _something_ about another person that uses dwarf stars.”

“And hope they don’t take anyone else.” Hartley grumbles.

Cisco knocks on the nearest plank of wood. “Stop tempting fate.”

Hartley doesn’t say anything and just spins back around in his chair.

~~~~~~~~~

“Len!” Barry says loudly in the hall outside of the bridge when he sees the other man. “Did it go well?”

Len strides up, Mick still behind him, and loops his arms around Barry’s waist, shifting close—just shy of a hug—to peck the other man on the lips.

Mick makes an ‘ugh’ noise and walks right past them, headed towards the hot tubs.

“We know it’s most likely dwarf star,” Len pecks him again. “But we need to figure out who did this, because Ray doesn’t know of anyone who uses it besides him.”

“Maybe a rival tech company? Does Mercury Labs know anything?” Barry moves closer, gently feeling the heat of the other’s form.

Len pulls Barry fully into his arms and feels the younger’s hair against his cheek. He turns his head so that he can nuzzle Barry’s neck. “Maybe,” Len mumbles. “Ask Harry. He stole something from there once if I remember properly.”

“The pulse r—rifle, yeah,” Barry stammers, willingly stepping backwards when Len starts pushing him towards the wall behind him. “L—len what is it with—”

Len bites Barry’s neck and the speedster yelps, hand flying up to muffle the remainder of the noise. He can feel Len’s smirk against his neck and turns red.

“I—ah!” Barry tries to talk again and it ends in another bite.

“Shhhh, Scarlet,” Len says, and pulls him in for a kiss.

They call Tina McGee later, and while she’s aware of the existence of dwarf star alloys, she’s not currently using them in any of her projects. Aside from Palmer Technologies, the group is unable to find anyone else that uses the rare material.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on _Tempting Fate_ : Hot Tub Dominance Battles :D :D :D


	26. In Hot Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Here's your dose of these goofs on a cruise ship, this time featuring hot tub dominance battles and drama on the bridge. 
> 
> Oh, and Cisco vibes again. 
> 
> Speaking of Cisco, his playlist this chapter includes [God Save the Foolish Kings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHT4S2AbEvE) by House of Heroes and[ Thunderstruck](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIsxm5LEFss) by Owl City. 
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks as always for reading <3

Barry arrives on the fourteenth deck shortly after Wally and Jesse slip into the hot tub with Mark and Lisa. After shedding his shirt and setting down his towel, he moves to join them, but a wary look from Wally tells him he should do otherwise. Instead, he turns, and sees that Len has managed to sneak into a free hot tub nearby.

It’s not a difficult choice as to whether Barry joins _him_ or not.

“This kind of reminds me of several days ago,” Len says casually, twirling his fingers in the water, creating bubbles just under the surface. “When I chased you out.”

“You didn’t chase me out,” Barry corrects. “I chose to leave.”

Len tilts his head and raises a curved eyebrow. “Barry…”

Barry grabs Len’s hand, ceasing the older man’s twirling fingers and squeezing lightly. It effectively distracts Len, and while he’s aware of it, he makes no move to steer the situation back to where it was before.

Pulling on Len’s hand, Barry silently invites Len to sit next to him in the hot tub. En consents, and then Barry is snuggling up to him. While the hot tub is warm, Barry can still feel Len’s heat next to him. Len loosens Barry’s hold on his hand to wrap a firm arm around the younger man and Barry leans into it, resting his head on Len’s shoulder.

Until Harry shows up, tapping his foot and crossing his arms.

He’s also wearing board shorts, clearly intent on getting into the Jacuzzi.

“You can come in anytime you like, Wells,” Len beckons with his free arm.

Harry grumbles inaudibly, but gets into the hot tub across from the couple. Well, as _far_ away as he could be while still enjoying the jets of the Jacuzzi.

“How’s your life?” Len asks.

Harry’s face is flat. “It’s fine. Just trying to get to the Isle of Fate in one piece so I can kick your ass and steal the mask.”

“You really care about Ramon, don’t you?” Len starts moving his fingers in the water again.

Harry crosses his arms. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” _Maybe I see some of myself in him and don’t want him to fall._

Len, one the other hand, smirks. “Well then, _I_ think you care about him, or you wouldn’t be here—”

“Oh look who decided to show up,” Mick suddenly appears, then without warning _jumps_ into the hot tub, dousing both Barry and Len in a wave of warm water.

“Hey!” Barry shouts, wiping his eyes. Len does the same in short staccato movements. “You can’t just jump in like that!”

“Red, it’s a _pool—”_

_“_ Jacuzzi,” Len interrupts.

“Shut up, Snart,” Mick says playfully, then turns back to Barry. “The _hot pools—”_ Len does his best not to show any reaction to Mick’s new term. “—Are open to everyone and if I want to jump in one then I can jump in one. Now, I’d like to relax. My back hurts from dealing with you people—”

Barry blinks, “—that doesn’t even make sense—”

“—Mick’s back is temperamental,” Len supplies, hugging Barry closer to calm him. In front of them, Mick nods in agreement.

Harry has his arms crossed and is not happy at all. Unhappy enough to get out of the hot tub and move to the _other_ free hot tub on the deck, which fortunately no one is sitting in. Harry settles in, finally relaxing, until—

“Hey Harry,” Caitlin says after she runs up, stepping into the Jacuzzi as quickly as possible to take advantage of the heated goodness. Harry notices shortly after that Iris and Eddie had been with her. They too, get into the Jacuzzi and promptly start doing PDA, hugging too close and little pecks on each other’s lips.

Harry is _so_ not into that, so he leaves the tub.

“Wait for me!” Caitlin says, having similar thoughts, and moves out of the tub after Harry. Harry grumbles something inaudible, and Caitlin takes it as assent to tag along. There’s one more hot tub on the deck, and like the others, it’s free with no one inside.

Well, they thought so, until two people emerge from the depths out of nowhere, both breathing heavily.

“Sam you _jerk!”_ Shawna says after she can get air into her lungs, breaking the stillness of the water.

“Water is a perfectly valid mirror!” He defends. “Well, it should have been.”

“Well it wasn’t!”

“Keep the jets off, and I’ll try again!” Shawna grumbles but obeys him, turning the switch that controls the jets to 0 instead of interspersed pulsing. “Look, I didn’t mean to shove you underw…” Sam notices Harry and Caitlin before Shawna does, but she’s not far behind. “Why, what are you two doing in this neck of the woods?”

Harry answers, voice forever gruff. “This isn’t the woods. It’s a ship. And we’re here because we paid for it.”

“Technically, Barry—” Caitlin unhelpfully tries to point out.

“ _Snow,”_ Harry warns, shooting a look that demands she drop the topic. He turns back to the two Rogues. “We’re joining,” he says.

Shawna and Sam cluster together on the side of the hot tub farthest away from Harry and Caitlin. Shawna is far more at ease than Sam.

“Fine with me,” Shawna tells the two.

“Um, can I say _not_ fine?” Sam inquires.

Harry pauses, feet dangling in the water. Caitlin sits down shortly after.

“No,” Harry says, and slips all the way in. Caitlin follows, and Harry makes a show of leaning back, placing his hands behind his head and exhaling with a wry smile.

Several minutes pass before Sam has had enough.

“I don’t like this,” he says, and attempts to throw the two into the mirror dimension through the water.

This time he succeeds.

“Sam!” Shawna shouts, shock in her voice.

Sam’s face has blanched, catching up to what he’d just done. Shawna is pointing avidly at the water before she rapidly splashes it. “Well what are you sitting there staring for?” Shawna practically yells. “Go in after them before they get lost forever!”

Sam’s body catches up with his brain, and he opens a tentative portal, diving into the void beyond.

Shawna catches her breath and waits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s lonely over here,” Iris says, nuzzling close to Eddie. “But it’s not _so_ bad.”

Eddie leans into her. “No, no it’s not. But, company would be nice.”

“But if we have company…” Iris’ hand creeps up his thigh, and she hears Eddie’s breath hitch in his throat. “…then I can’t do this,” her hand slips under Eddie’s board shorts and Eddie lets out a small noise. Iris smirks as she continues, eliciting similar reactions the higher—and slower—she goes.

“Iris,” he says.

“Hmmmm, babe?” Another soft touch.

“Y—you gotta stop,” he barely gets out before his voice dissolves into another noise that Iris lived to hear.

“ _Why?”_ she asks, voice low.

There’s a cough behind her, and she startles, hand pulling itself out of Eddie’s swimsuit as she rapidly turns around.

“Because I can see what you’re doing and something tells us you’re not into _voyeurism,”_ Roy Bivolo says suggestively, naturally dressed in a swimsuit that’s covered in rainbows.

“Well, actually—” Eddie begins but Iris thumps him on the shoulder, shooting him a death glare that he’s never seen before. _Don’t tell him that!_ She mouths. Eddie gets the picture.

Roy smiles. “So can I join?”

“You wanna be our third wheel, Raider?” Eddie replies socratically, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Absolutely,”_ he levels his gaze, and Iris and Eddie exchange glances of their own, eventually resigning to nod in nearly forced approval. “Good.”

Roy gets in the tub. “Damn it’s nice in here. _Thanks guys.”_

Eddie wraps his arm around Iris and they both sit in silence while Roy looks to be having the time of his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hartley spins in his chair for the millionth time that day, boredom clear in his actions. “Cisquitoooooooooooooooo,” he all but whines. “We need to _do_ something.”

Cisco doesn’t take the next bite of his Twizzler, and turns around slowly in his chair to see Hartley. “You bored?”

“ _Yes,_ isn’t it obvious?” Hartley gestures to their greater surroundings.

“It’s better than being shipwrecked,” Cisco tells him, and turns back around, aiming to get back to work, and by work he means finalizing his latest flash suit schematic.

“Oh no,” Hartley stands up, and turns Cisco’s chair around himself. “We are _doing_ something. That’s not an option.”

“Seems like you’re desperate.”

“Cisco…”

“Dare I say, desperate for me?” Cisco says it smoothly, and his voice makes something warm coil in Hartley’s gut, and it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. And it’s more than the slight attracti—

Hartley turns red to cut off any more thoughts of _that_ , nearly running away as quickly as he came. But it’s too late. Cisco already sees the redness and his obviously not platonic reaction, and after meeting eyes with the other man, Cisco’s own face turns red too, which is also obviously not platonic.

The silence could _not_ have been more awkward.

“Um,” Cisco breaks it.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll get back on my… schematic-ey science-ey stuff.”

“And I’ll do…the uhhhhh shippy stuff that needs shipping,” Hartley says before he can think, and his face turns redder. He starts fidgeting with his hands, and after seeing that Cisco is doing the same thing and that he _likes_ watching those hands, stops.

Cisco tries to keep his voice steady and fails. “W—what kind of shipping?”

“Just,” Hartley tries in vain to come up with an excuse, because he just _has_ to answer. When that fails he tries an insult. “Shut up, Cisco, people don’t like you.”

Cisco catches the weakness in his voice _and_ in the insult, and takes a _very_ dangerous chance. He’s suddenly reminded of his own existence, and how frail and easily destroyed by someone punching him in the right place on the neck. He does his best to ignore it

“Now, _Hartley,”_ Cisco uses the voice he only reserves for serious discussions and… other things. “We both know that’s not true.”

“And w-why would that be?” Hartley stammers when Cisco stands, realizing that coming face to face with _Cisco Ramon_ when they aren’t fighting or arguing is—

Hartley can’t stop staring at Cisco’s _eyes._ His _eyes._ Hartley knows he’s staring into the soul of someone who has been through hell and back many times over just as much as he knows Cisco isn’t in bad company. He’s beautiful that way. Just… absolutely fucking be—

Cisco breaks into his thoughts. “Because I think you’re—” Cisco starts, but roughly cuts off and takes a step back. Hartley doesn’t follow, watching from a distance as something good fades from Cisco’s eyes and something _else_ reappears.

“Cisco?” Hartley calls, taking several steps forward. He’s worried, and all too ready to catch the other man because he’s swaying _._ “Cisco can you hear me?”

“Oh not… not this again…” Cisco says absently, fingers flying to his temples right before fear crosses Cisco’s features. The look twists everything Hartley had been admiring into something terribly _wrong._

“…Cisco?” Hartley calls out again helplessly.

Hartley doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he can do. Until—

A vibe.

This must be a vibe.

Hartley banks on it, and desperately makes a plan. When he comes up with nothing, he takes a few steps back to give Cisco space, and watches him closely. If he shows any signs of anything that would need medical attention, Hartley would take care of it instantly as much as he could, preparing to do CPR if need be.

But before Hartley’s worry can escalate to a dangerous level, Cisco is dropping to his knees and vomiting all over the bridge. While it collectively piles into one localized spot, it’s still on the floor and not in the trashcan _._ It thankfully had missed Cisco’s uniform, but only by a hair.

“Awww fuck _,”_ Cisco says, seeing the mess in front of him. He looks at a shocked Hartley. “Aww _fuck,”_ he says again, then lets out a frustrated groan. “Can you get me a napkin, please?”

Cisco doesn’t have to tell him twice. Hartley _runs_ to the paper towels and grabs one for Cisco, who wipes his mouth, and stands up. He’s still wobbly and figuratively looks like he’s been hit by a train, but he has his own head back.

“That was a vibe, about the mask, actually. Good to know those are back,” Cisco says dryly before his expression adopts a serious note. He meet’s Hartley’s worried gaze. “I’m sorry, Hart.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hartley’s voice is quiet, still in shock from _everything_ that had happened. “It was going to happen eventually. I just wish I could have helped you.”

“You? Helping me?” Cisco glances at him and sees that the joke had fallen flat. Hartley’s eyes held no trace of his usual condescension. “Sorry, just… next time nudge me, sometimes that breaks me out of it. Talking helps too. Lately they’ve been too intense for people to snap me out of them though,” Cisco sighs. “And it’s best for _me_ to just ride it out.”

“You look like shit, Cisco,” Cisco cringes. It’s so slight that Hartley only catches it because he’s known the other man so long. Hartley is honest, at least. “There has to be a better way.”

“Well there isn’t!” Cisco yells, and when Hartley flinches Cisco blabbers. “That’s not at you, it’s at fucking Eobard goddamned Thawne and his motherfucking _particle accelerator_ because it’s his fault I’m in this mess! I just want to be back where I was before. Happy. Working at a fun job with a world renowned scientist under the pretense that I was actually good and not chosen from some fucked up alternate timeline.”

“Tell me about it,” Hartley says instantly.

Cisco looks at him then, cracks a smile, and _laughs._ Hartley laughs with him, and before long they’re both laughing uncontrollably. When the laughter dies down, Cisco says, “we’re quite the mess, aren’t we?” and Hartley replies, “yes, yes we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caitlin screams as she scrabbles for Harry’s hand, his arm, anything. She ends up hanging onto his ankle for dear life, and vaguely, she hears Harry scream again behind her.

“I thought we were done with this!” Caitlin yells.

“You’re not the only one, Snow!” Harry retorts. “Where are we?”

“Fuck if I know!” her voice devolves into a scream once more, because they are just falling farther away. Everything around them is reflective and feels like _nothing._ The in between of a reflection sure makes for an interesting environment. “Where the fuck is Scudder?”

“Fuck if _I_ know!”

“Harry, now is not the time for sarcasm!”

“It’s the _perfect_ time for sarcasm!”

Caitlin keeps hanging on and both of them continue their bickering.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam takes a breath and jumps into the water, passing through the portal to the mirror realm and into the void beyond.

It isn’t hard to find Caitlin and Harry because of their screaming. He flies forward, deftly navigating the mirror planes until he found the two.

“It’s about time you got here,” Harry says, voice tired and deadpan.

“Get us out of this!” Caitlin’s voice is shot.

Sam rolls his eyes and grabs both by their wrists, and without another word, heads towards the surface.

~~~~~~~~~

Shawna finally calms down several minutes later, and she sees that Lisa and Mark have walked up.

“Can we join?” Lisa asks.

Shawna considers, and says, “sure, just make sure you keep to the edges.”

Lisa and Mark look at each other, but Mark shrugs his shoulders and takes a step into the water which has suddenly begun churning in a way not characteristic of a Jacuzzi.

“Wait, what is—”

Sam emerges carrying Harry and Caitlin, and Lisa _screams._ Mark laughs and Lisa clamps a hand over her mouth. Harry and Caitlin resemble wet cats in physical appearance and facial expressions, with Harry looking particularly grumpy.

“You can’t do that!” Caitlin yelps, punching Sam in the side. She’d tried to make it strong—Cisco had taught her how to properly throw a punch after Mick and Len had kidnapped her. Additionally, Sam had let her do it, having known that what he did hadn’t been friendly exactly. “And Len is going to get you. You _can’t_ use your powers!”

“I don’t think that’s _your_ decision to make,” He pauses long enough to witness Caitlin’s face twist into a furious rage. “But I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That won’t make up for it,” Caitlin’s hands form into angry fists.

Sam opens up his mouth to reply, but she’s already leaving after taking one look at all of the Rogues. Harry follows, not wanting to be left alone with people quirky enough to cause concern. The two make a beeline towards the tub with Jesse and Wally, having been done with this shit.

Meanwhile, Roy is still sitting with Iris and Eddie, making any of their PDA feel awkward and unwelcomed, because it was.

So naturally, Iris and Eddie begin to just make out, ignoring his coughs and ahems, with the hopes that he would leave them in peace.

It takes several minutes before he finally says something.

“You can stop now,” he says. “People are staring. _I’m_ staring.”

No response.

“Do you guys even breathe?” He says, and all they did was chuckle. Roy huffed, and then huffed again, and finally made the decision to get up and leave.

To his horror, he noticed that Team Flash had seating in three of the four hot tubs, and given recent experience he was sick of team Flash. So he goes to sit in the only available option: the hot tub with Sam, Shawna, Lisa, and Mark.

It’s crowded, but Roy convinces himself not to care about it and also about the fact that Team Flash really had won their unspoken hot tub battle.

Roy leans back, and shoving away his anger and a small amount of shame, he finally relaxes.

Much to what everyone would expect, the rest of them do too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note, this work is unbeta-ed. If you like it how it is, that's totally fine. If you'd like to help me with it, I would greatly appreciate you. 
> 
> Next time: It's dinner time on the _Fate of the Seas_! Which is an awfully inconvenient time for our dear bridge boys to be away from one another ;)


	27. Proximity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Next chapter is here. Cisco's playlist includes [Unbelievable](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTWaiwb5QnE%0A) by Owl City and [Paris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTWaiwb5QnE>Unbelievable</a>%20by%20Owl%20City%20and%20<a%20href=) by Magic Man. 
> 
> As always, enjoy! 
> 
> OH one more thing, thank you guys for 10k hits!!!!

“Cisco?” Hartley calls.

Nothing.

“Wake up, Cisco,” Hartley repeats.

Still nothing.

“Cisquito, wake up.”

No change.

Hartley sighs and places a hand on Cisco’s trembling shoulder. He shakes lightly, and suddenly the breath is knocked from his lungs as everything goes blue, Hartley’s world blinking out of existence before he can hang onto it for dear life.

He’s scrambling for a semblance of control when bright lights start attacking his vision. He tries to focus, to see clearly, but everything is so bright that it hurts. No part of him can pick up any tactile sensory input and Hartley just wants it to stop _._

And then there’s the noise _,_ a technological _snap!_ that sounds off once and then fires again and again at increasing speed. Hartley’s ears ring, and while the sound doesn’t hurt, it’s uncomfortable in a way that Hartley hadn’t thought possible _._ Fortunately, it lasts only a few seconds and Hartley can focus again after a few more, thankfully realizing that his hand is still on Cisco’s shoulder.

But it’s different now. Cisco isn’t lying down wrapped up in a cozy, cute burrito. He’s standing up and staring right at Hartley, eyes wide with fear, horror, and wrecked with confusion.

“Holy mother of _fucking hell!”_ Hartley finally manages to scream. 

 

_Several Hours Earlier_

Hartley doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to leave the bridge and he doesn’t want to talk to a bunch of strangers who think he’s someone he’s not.

Or worse, they _do_ recognize him and the ghosts of old memories chase him like a swarm of bees that just had their hive incinerated by an evil yard owner with a flamethrow—

“Oh, it so doesn’t even matter,” Hartley grumbles to himself.

“I wish I could help you,” Cisco’s voice is sincere, and Hartley is simultaneously confused and happy about this, just as he is about Cisco’s voice shattering his thoughts.

Hartley looks at him, pausing. “You can’t help me,” he sighs. “No one can. Not with this, at least.”

Cisco pushes off from the table and stands up from his chair, taking a few steps forward towards the other man. “It’s one dinner. After this, there’s no more. The passengers might be upset that they don’t have a ‘fancy dinner with the captain’—” Cisco includes the appropriate air quotes. “—But they can get over it.” He offers up a weak smile and fortunately it’s enough for Hartley, who smiles back warmly.

Cisco’s grin gets wider when he sees Hartley’s reaction. “There we go. Now go get em!” He gently shoves Hartley towards the door and Hartley lets it happen, knowing that he wouldn’t leave the bridge unless someone made him. Cisco does the trick.

Hartley hesitates, thinks _fuck it,_ and gives Cisco a proper goodbye. “See you later, Cisco.”

Cisco laughs. “I’d hope so, you’ve got first watch and I need my beauty sleep!”

Cisco shuts the door before Hartley can throw back an insult, and quickly realizes he’s now alone.

The bridge just got a hell of a lot more boring.

~~~~~~~~~

Barry is pacing when Hartley arrives in Team Flash’s stateroom, the group’s chosen meeting point. Everyone is dressed in the formal apparel they had worn the night Mick had caught the table on fire, back before all the crap had hit the fan.

Except for Caitlin, who wore a neck-to-toe blue sequined dress that glittered as she moved, captivating anyone who gazed upon it.

“Nice dress,” Hartley gives her a nod of approval as he walks in the room, dressed in his full Co-Captain uniform.

Lisa looks Hartley up and down. “Wow, he’s _very_ convincing.”

Shawna approaches him. “I can’t wait to see what everyone thinks of you.” She reaches to touch one of Hartley’s lapels, but he dodges her touch.

“Don’t put your grubby fingers all over my uniform!” Hartley makes a shooing motion and she takes a few steps back. Both Roy and Mark, who stand nearby, move away as well. “You know how I am! And how I am is _not_ with your fingers on my clothing!”

“Okay, so Hartley is a little jumpy,” Barry whispers to Len, situated in the far corner of the room to observe and not participate.

Len scoffs, giving the speedster a light bump with his shoulder. “No shit, Scarlet.”

Barry almost rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant _._ ” It’s said more playfully than angrily. “I mean, he’s antsy and it’s not fair that he has to be.”

“Well you can’t do it,” Len points out. “So let him, and make sure we don’t have to do this again, so that everyone lives _happily. Ever. After.”_

_Were it so easy,_ Barry thinks to himself, glancing over to look at Len’s eyes, just to try and log another thing to look back on when all of this is over. “I could—”

Len stops him. “Barry, you don’t know _anything_ about _boats._ You can run on water, _sure,_ but you can’t drive a cruise ship to save your life, or else you would have volunteered this morning.”

_It hasn’t even been a day?_ Barry reflects, now wishing he could run on water just so he can breathe. All of this is getting to be way too much for even a superhero to handle. But, it isn’t just him handling it. It’s eight heroes and eight villains. Sixteen people who care about the ship moving forward.

They could do this.

But Barry just… can’t right now.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Barry’s tone is hesitant and so quiet Len almost doesn’t hear it.

Len exhales, understanding. “Of course you can, Scarlet.” Len’s arm winds itself around Barry’s waist and a kiss in planted on his neck, chaste and gentle. “You’re welcome in my cabin _anytime.”_ Barry laughs as Len distracts him from the chaos, and kisses him again, but on the lips this time. Like the former, this kiss is quick and light.

Lisa Snart, of course, sees the exchange and later vows that neither of them will live it down.

~~~~~~~~~

Despite Hartley’s fears, the dinner goes by quick and easy. Apparently all of the guests are new to the Captain’s table so they hadn’t known what to expect. Hartley, not wanting to talk unless it’s absolutely necessary, spends most of the meal talking about cruise ship engines to a young twelve year old boy who wants to grow up to become just like Hartley.

_You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,_ Hartley thinks to himself. _And it’s not all it’s cracked up to be._

“How many people does it take to run an engine room?” The boy asks. His father looks at Hartley almost apologetically, as if he’s sorry his son is giving Hartley something to do that he’s comfortable with.

_One,_ he answers silently.

“A hundred or so,” he tells the kid, hoping that his guess is at least close. The boy seems to accept it, so Hartley’s in the clear for now.

His stomach drops when he sees Mick inhale like he’s about to speak. “Hey, _Captain,”_ Mick leans back in his chair and the front legs lift up off the ground as Mick props himself up on the chair’s back legs. His own are crossed and resting on a horizontal support under the table. “I got a question for you.”

Hartley shoots Mick a sly glare hidden under his default I-need-to-smile-now grin.

Mick absolutely sees this and continues anyway. “What’s it like driving a cruise ship for so long? You’ve been what, driving ships for how many years?”

Hartley’s hands clench under the table, and he starts sweating because he doesn’t know how to answer that question. Mick is a dirty, rotten—

“He’s been sailing for 11 years, sir.” The boy says.

He will never know how he had singlehandedly saved Hartley’s ass.

Now Hartley can bullshit the rest. He can work with this.

Hartley takes a breath, lets it out, and _talks._ “Driving a ship isn’t easy. It’s hard, and I didn’t realize how hard it would be when I got into the business,” Mick stares, surprised at how easily Hartley is spinning his lies. “And even when you finally become a captain, it’s not all _smooth sailing,”_

The whole table laughs at the nautical pun and Hartley lightens up a little. “There are still unexpected events to account for and deal with, like storms and… _mechanical failure._ Sometimes your crew gets sick and you have to temporarily promote a few people. It’s… scary business when everything isn’t going well. But often, things go quite well, and you don’t have to worry about a thing _._ ” Hartley adds a little more sugar to his smile. “Does that answer your question Mr. Rory?”

Mick nods, shocked. “Thanks, Captain.”

Mick is smart enough not to ask any more questions, and the boy takes up the remainder of Hartley’s time. The temporary co-captain makes it a point to at least talk once to each of the other passengers, just so he can keep up the appearance that he’s a cruise ship Captain with— _holy shit—_ eleven years of cruising experience. The real captain easily has to be in their forties.

By the time Hartley’s dessert plate leaves the table, he’s ready to bolt. He bids farewell to the passengers, and makes for the door.

Len catches his arm.

“Where are you going?” Len asks.

“Where I want to be,” Hartley shakes free of Len’s grip, and leaves the dining room as quick as he can, making a beeline for the bridge before any of the passengers can try and stop him.

~~~~~~~

Hartley tries to open the door, but it’s locked. Good, he won’t have to chastise Cisco for leaving them vulnerable.

“Cisquito, let me in!” Hartley shouts through the wood, knocking loudly when Cisco doesn’t immediately answer the door. “You can’t sleep yet!”

There’s a crash and then frantic footsteps. “I’m getting there! Hang on!”

Hartley grins and knocks louder.

The door swings open after several more rushed thumps, and a very annoyed Cisco stands in Hartley’s way when he tries to enter.

“Let me in, Cisco,” Hartley’s demand falls on deaf ears.

“What’s the password,” Cisco says, acting like a twelve year old.

Hartley looks at him like he’s stupid, because this is stupid. And dumb. And childish.

“Fuck you?” Hartley guesses.

Hartley can tell Cisco is choking back a laugh. 

“Nope! I’ll give you a hint. It’s the magic word,” Cisco teases and Hartley wants to slap him.

“Oh fuck no, I’m not falling for that!” Hartley thinks about shoving him, but refrains because that would really be childish. “ _Let me in, Cisco.”_

“ _Say the magic word.”_

Hartley groans, there’s a pause, and then the corners of Hartley’s lips turn upwards into a wicked grin right before he says, “please. Please let me in. Oh _please_ let me in, Co-Captain Ramon!”

Cisco, upon seeing Hartley’s horrible dramatic interpretation of his request, lets him in immediately and promptly begs him to shut up and never do that again.

“You said I have first watch, right?” Hartley asks once both of them calm down.

“Yeah,” Cisco yawns appropriately. “And I’ll take second in a few hours, or whenever you feel like you’re starting to get too sleepy. Good?”

“Fine with me,” Hartley agrees and before Cisco can argue, says, “go to sleep Cisco.”

Cisco doesn’t argue with him and grabs a nearby blanket—there’s a pile of blankets under one of the tables to make sure the crew is kept warm—and falls asleep instantly, not even caring he has nothing but the hard, metal floor to be his pillow.

~~~~~~~~~

It’s not fun. It’s boring, dark, and Hartley had run out of things to do long before Cisco had curled up on the floor—gross—desperate for sleep, and had finally drifted into unconsciousness.

He plans on giving Cisco four hours of sleep or so before waking him up. Neither of them expected to sleep much until after they got to the Isle of Fate, so rotating shifts at night is their best chance at getting any sort of rest.

Hartley had found that he actually missed Cisco’s voice and his constant minor criticisms. He’d come to know the other man a little better in the past day, and Hartley is a little embarrassed at how often he’s thinking of Cisco. Things he wants to tell Cisco. Things he wants to share with Cisco. Things he wishes he could say to Cisco.

Plus, it isn’t like Hartley can make innuendos to a steering wheel.

The joystick on the other hand—

Hartley shakes his head free of the notion and is so lost in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t hear the sniffle coming from Cisco’s area of the bridge. Hartley then hears sharp breathing, then a sniffle, and then _another_ sniffle, and then a _thump!_ a _slam!_ and is Cisco crying?

Hartley isn’t sure what he’s hearing, just that it’s wrong on a number of levels. Nevertheless, he takes his feet off the table, plants them on the ground, stands up, and inches quietly over to the other man. Hartley does his best not to wake Cisco, but once he gets closer, he realizes that maybe he _should_ wake him.

Cisco isn’t just crying, he’s whimpering in between scattered unintelligible phrases. At a closer glance, Hartley can see a few glistening tears on Cisco’s face, and Hartley realizes he’s seeing something he shouldn’t. Sleeping is an intimate activity and while Hartley and Cisco have had to flex their boundaries a little, Hartley thinks it’s still a little weird to watch Cisco sleep. Especially this close. Geez.

But Hartley can’t just leave him there, especially when the whimpering gets worse, and the crying turns into sobs. On a basic level, it’s annoying _,_ but on a personal level, Hartley knows something is off, and he’s going to fix it. Cisco is clearly having a nightmare.

He exhales slowly, crouches down, and quietly starts calling Cisco’s name, trying to rouse him without startling. Hartley has had enough nightmares in his life to know that sudden awakenings hold the potential to be as terrifying as the dreams themselves.

“Cisco?” Hartley calls.

Nothing.

“Wake up, Cisco,” Hartley repeats.

Still nothing.

“Cisquito, wake up.”

No change.

Hartley sighs and places a hand on Cisco’s trembling shoulder. He shakes lightly, and suddenly the breath is knocked from his lungs as everything goes blue, Hartley’s world blinking out of existence before he can hang onto it for dear life.

He’s scrambling for a semblance of control when bright lights start attacking his vision. He tries to focus, to see clearly, but everything is so bright that it hurts. No part of him can pick up any tactile sensory input and Hartley just wants it to stop _._

And then there’s the noise _,_ a technological _snap!_ that sounds off once and then fires again and again at increasing speed. Hartley’s ears ring, and while it doesn’t hurt, it’s uncomfortable in a way that Hartley hadn’t thought possible _._ Fortunately, it lasts only a few seconds and Hartley can focus again after a few more, thankfully realizing that his hand is still on Cisco’s shoulder.

But it’s different now. Cisco isn’t lying down wrapped up like a cozy, cute burrito. He’s _standing up_ and staring right at Hartley, eyes wide with fear, horror, and wrecked with confusion.

“Holy mother of _fucking hell!”_ Hartley finally manages to scream.

Cisco doesn’t hesitate to shriek with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hartmon intensifies*
> 
> I hate to leave you guys at that, but this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I had anticipated and I had to split it into two parts. I've been waiting a while to... introduce some things, so hang tight! The next chapter is one I'm really excited about (as I know I say often, but hey, good to be excited, right?), and I hope it's exciting for you guys too.


	28. Do Not Vibe While Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's playlist this chapter includes [My Demons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-N_y1bZtRw) by Starset and [Luna](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o91UBIxy6hM) by ATTLAS.
> 
> Enjoy!

Cisco’s first thought is that he’s dreaming, that maybe this isn’t a vibe because _this doesn’t happen in vibes._ He’s staring into the bright and blue void when Hartley—of all people—appears as a shimmering form that materializes next to him. The other man has his hand on Cisco’s shoulder while everything moves and shifts around them, blinking and flickering. But Hartley remains the same, constant, _stable._

Which means that somehow Hartley is vibing with him.

_Oh no,_ Cisco thinks, and when the other man screams, he screams with him.

~~~~~~~

Hartley’s first thought is that his drink had been spiked or he’d accidentally dropped acid. There’s no other excuse, except maybe he’d hit his head or something, or suddenly developed metahuman powers—

Cisco’s hand is suddenly wrapped around Hartley’s wrist like a vice, holding it to his shoulder in an iron grip. Hartley instinctively tries to pull away, but he fast realizes that’s not happening.

“Hart,” Cisco tells him, voice calm. “Stop fighting me.”

Hartley is definitely on drugs.

“Where am I?” Hartley asks.

Cisco gestures with a free hand to the manifestation around him. A light flares behind Cisco’s head and Hartley wants to shoot himself in the foot because it had been so well timed and Cisco had been so—

Hartley is in trouble. _Fuck,_ he thinks, swallowing. _Please let this be a hallucination or I’m going to end up doing something really stupid._

“I’m vibing,” Cisco squeezes Hartley’s wrist a few times to make sure he’s still real and then vacantly says, “I think I’m going to be okay.”

Hartley takes a mental step back. “ _What?”_

“This is a vibe and somehow you’re here with me,” Cisco continues, voice tense, “and I have no idea _how_ , or _why_ , but I feel like I need you to stay. Everything in my vibes is fluid. It changes. You, you’re… you’re solid. Firm. You’re _real_ to me.”

Oh. _Oh._

Hartley realizes all at once that he might not be tripping balls at all.

“So this could actually be real?” Hartley dares to ask.

“I think so.” Cisco’s voice is sad. Hartley tries to pull his hand away experimentally, but Cisco still holds it tight. His shoulder is warm. “I feel like you’re going to vanish if you let go of me. Just… just don’t leave. Please.”

Hartley just stares at him for a moment because he feels it’s all he can do. Cisco is spacey, tired, _weary._

“Okay.” Hartley sighs, relaxing his arm, and Cisco has the nerve to carefully shift both of their hands until Hartley’s fingers are interlaced with his own between both of their bodies.

Hartley relaxes even further. _This is okay. This is nice,_ Hartley thinks as he gives Cisco’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“So tell me what’s going on here,” Hartley starts, following a hunch that distraction might be the best option. “On my end you were whimpering and crying and I tried to wake you up but then _this_ happened.” He gestures to the scene around them, and he’s starting to see it materialize a little bit more. He still can’t tell where they are, if they’re anywhere at all.

“I vibe in my sleep,” Cisco says somberly, eyes to the ground, “I thought this was just going to be another vibe about the Mask of Fate—as most of them have been lately—but it doesn’t feel like that. It’s only just started. The weird blueness and the thing with the lights happen for a while before everything comes into view, so that’s normal. But I don’t know, this one feels different. It’s… a nightmare, I think. There’s a constant sense of dread. Do you feel it?”

Hartley takes a moment, letting all of his available senses open up. He’s about to give up and tell Cisco “no”, when on the periphery of his thoughts, he senses a darkness, a void, that pushes and pulls all at once.

That must be what Cisco is referring to.

“Yes, I do.” Hartley answers, voice sad enough to hide the fear he’s feeling.

The void, yanking on his thoughts.

_Hush now, come with us._

And to think Hartley had been complaining about his shitty hearing.

“So what do we do?”

“Well, I can’t get out of it until it’s run its course. Normal vibes I can sometimes snap out of if someone yells at me loud enough—” Hartley knows he could fill _that_ role if he needed to. “—But this one is combined with a dreamlike state so I’m stuck here. And yes, before you ask, I have tried waking myself up,” Cisco says. “And it hasn’t worked. It _never_ works. So will you explore this one with me?”

“I could try to wake you up,” Hartley pulls on his hand again and Cisco grabs it tighter, shooting him a death glare. “Let me go, Cisco.”

“Don’t. Please,” Cisco says, and his voice betrays his desperation. Hartley doesn’t catch all of it, but he catches enough to know that something is seriously wrong.

“This is so fucked up,” Hartley questions whether this is real or not for the millionth time in the last two minutes. Despite this they start walking around anyway.

They’re stepping around on what starts as nothing, but grows to be the _Fate of the Seas’_ cheaply patterned flooring. It’s clearly damaged by water because most pieces are warped and twisted. Some are torn up in parts, with the pieces looking as if they were not just displaced, but rather thrown.

Hartley and Cisco realize what’s happening simultaneously, and the dread grows, coating their thoughts with a thick black haze and threatening to paralyze.

“Oh no,” Cisco says, “oh _no.”_ He squeezes Hartley’s hand so hard that it hurts— _how can he feel pain?—_ and Hartley ignores the sensation, taking on his role without question.

“Stay with me, Cisco,” Hartley says, not sure that it will help to say so, but he figures it’s worth it to try.

Cisco sighs hopelessly, but doesn’t argue with him.

They keep walking.

Next, they’re in a hallway. It’s small and cramped, exactly like every other stateroom hallway on the ship. The ceiling is low, and even though Hartley and Cisco aren’t fearful of the hallways on their _Fate of the Seas_ , this one is decidedly different.

It’s the aftermath of a shipwreck.

“Cisco, what’s going on?” Hartley squeaks out. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t know!” Cisco shouts, panic in his voice, “I never know what’s happening until it happens, and I’m not getting anything.” He’s shaking, breathing uneven. “I’m not understanding, and nothing makes sense. Why doesn’t it make sense? Usually I get a sense of _something_ to go off of!”

Hartley forces Cisco to turn and face him with two strong hands. Even angled towards Hartley, Cisco’s eyes are at the floor, hands gesturing as much as they’re allowed with one of them still held firm in Hartley’s grasp.

Hartley chases a faint whim on how to calm the other man. “Look at me,” Hartley orders, voice tinged with authority.

Cisco doesn’t. He can’t.

“ _Cisquito,”_ Hartley says softly, his voice a gentle calming rumble that he knows is more soothing than his regular tone. With his free hand he carefully places a curled finger horizontally under Cisco’s chin. Gently, Hartley raises Cisco’s face to level with his own. “ _Look at me.”_

Cisco obeys.

“Good,” Hartley says, giving Cisco’s face a reassuring caress—oh god, why did he do that?—before dropping his hand to rest on Cisco’s shoulder. “Let me be your anchor. Just listen. That’s all you have to do.”

Cisco waits silently.

“You can stay calm. I’ve had enough anxiety attacks on my own, and something tells me this isn’t the first time this has happened,” Hartley says, voice still low and soft. “but I do think this is the first time you stand a chance at _not_ panicking, and as long as I’m here, you’re not allowed to panic.”

Cisco nods as a reply, the dying flame of hope sparking for a fraction of a second.

“So take a few deep breaths,” Hartley instructs, using his own method of overcoming anxiety attacks on Cisco. “I’ll take them with you. Just focus on my voice and the feeling of breathing.”

Together, the two of them take five deep breaths, and each one calms Cisco a little bit more. The fear in his eyes abates a little by the time they’re done, and Cisco no longer looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

And the hope—just a little bit of it—is back.

“Thanks,” Cisco says, voice faint.

“No problem,” Hartley squeezes Cisco’s shoulder once, then removes his hand entirely. “Now, let’s explore this shipwreck, okay?” Hartley’s hand is solid in his own, real, and for the first time ever he’s not trapped in tortuous solitude.

Hartley seems to read his thoughts. “You’re not alone.” He says, pulling Cisco down the hallway when he doesn’t fall in step with Hartley.

In front of them are scattered luggage items thrown haphazardly—some of them still open—along with various clothes and other personal items that had clearly fallen out. There are a few wheelchairs, covered in gathering dust, some not even unfolded.

Chills go down Hartley’s spine, and from the sudden tenseness in Cisco’s hand, Hartley knows that he is experiencing a similar reaction.

There are X’s all along the stateroom doors, black and sloppily drawn on, just enough to be recognizable. It’s clear that this version of the _Fate of the Seas_ had been evacuated.

But looking at all the luggage and the wheelchairs, they could see the panic of the passengers. Sure, the passengers had probably started going out peacefully, grabbing their belongings and heading towards the lifeboats, but at one point they just started panicking and _ran_.

Hartley looks into one of the rooms, the door still open from the evacuation. Inside are mattresses that have fallen off of their bedframes, cursed by water damage. There are personal belongings that had been abandoned scattered about. In one place however, on a nightstand, there is a pair of sunglasses, seemingly unmoved, left exactly how they had been placed.

“I can feel it,” Cisco says, breaking the awful silence that fills the ship.

“Feel what?”

“The fear,” Cisco says. “The fear that lingers here, from the passengers who couldn’t make it out. I don’t want to find them, Hart.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.” Hartley tells him.

“This sucks.” Cisco says brokenly through gritted teeth, fighting back tears and doing his best not to tremble.

Hartley doesn’t fault him for any of it.

They make it to the stairs, and the door is half off the hinges. The two of them work to get it moved enough to walk through. It’s done with their free hands because neither of them are going to break contact at this point. Hartley will _not_ leave Cisco here. It would be crueler of him than when he’d ruptured Cisco’s eardrums after Cisco had done the same to him.

Hartley looks over at Cisco now as they climb the steps upward, heading for anywhere but another stateroom hallway. Hartley takes in his appearance, and knows that Cisco has been broken so many times, by so many people. And Harrison had hurt him. _Eobard_ had hurt him. He’d recovered, but he’d lost something that had been torn out of him. That his face shows the weariness of Cisco’s pain is enough to tell Hartley that Cisco is stronger than Hartley will ever be, because Hartley will never recover from Eobard’s betrayal.

Hartley swallows again, but continues walking. He silently vows to keep Cisco safe, and it looks like he’s doing a good job. For now, at least.

It seems the two of them are headed for some of the higher decks. They make it to deck sixteen and Cisco leads them out of the stairs to look around.

They immediately notice the shattered glass rooftop of one of the bars. The glass is broken and jagged, and they don’t walk over to it. They see the pools and the Jacuzzis in a similar shape. Murky dark water pools in the tubs, but there at such a low level it hardly looks like a pool or a Jacuzzi.

Cisco and Hartley stare for a while, just to take it all in.

Cisco’s breathing picks up, and Hartley moves closer to him until they’re shoulder to shoulder. Hartley shifts closer and says, “ _Breathe,_ just keep breathing.”

Cisco responds and his breaths slow down.

“Thanks,” He says.

“You don’t have to thank me anymore.” Hartley says, surrendering all future apologies. It’s clear that Cisco will freak out again, and it will save Cisco the trouble when it’s all done. It’s not a burden to Hartley to be responsible for his mental state during these times—if they ever happen again—and he needs Cisco to know that, especially when he’s still feeling the fear and the dread and the _pain_.

Cisco nods, still barely present. But he’s hanging on, and to Hartley that’s what matters.

They continue to a broken bar, the granite countertop shattered and the seat cushions soaked. All the way up here it is looking like the ship _capsized_ either fully or partially, and both of those options terrify both of them.

Cisco does his best not to thing about what that might mean for the real world outside. He couldn’t do anything about it now, and he needed Hartley or—God forbid—he’d have a ministroke. Caitlin had told him it was possible. He doesn’t plan on finding out if she’s right or not.

“You know, there’s champagne over there.” Hartley points to a full bottle lying on the floor. “If we could drink it I would pour you a glass.”

“You’d have to pour _us_ a glass because there’s only one that isn’t shattered,” Cisco references the champagne flute at their feet. His foot hits it but can’t move it, only able to feel the environment in the frozen moment as a solid projection.

“You’d have to drink after me,” Hartley says, trying to move the flute as well and failing.

“You don’t seem to have a problem drinking after me either,” Cisco says.

“Maybe I don’t,” Hartley says back.

“Well, you’re not so bad.” Cisco quickly realizes what he just said, “I mean, and scientifically your spit’s not so bad, germ wise, you know? Like it wouldn’t be awful if—”

Hartley is not about to let Cisco get away with _that._

“You trying to say something Cisco?” Hartley says mischievously, seeing an angle and going for it.

Cisco swallows.

Hartley notices, and he smirks, shifting so that their hands are interlaced once more. Hartley carefully moves the other man back against the bar, placing a hand on Cisco’s chest to keep him there.

To Hartley’s surprise, Cisco doesn’t resist him, actually placing a hand over Hartley’s to keep it there, to keep him close.

“May I?” Hartley asks, eyes flashing quick between Cisco’s lips and his eyes.

Cisco nods faster than he can think.

And Hartley crashes his lips against Cisco’s, and Cisco responds well, wrapping his free arm around Hartley’s waist to pull him near.

Cisco moves to shove his hand up Hartley’s shirt. Hartley gasps, and then Cisco’s hand drops to Hartley’s naval, teasing. Cisco absolutely whines.

They want to explore the ship more, but something else is suddenly wrong. Cisco tenses, the dread growing, and Hartley can feel the push-pull get stronger.

Things had been going so _well._

Cisco abruptly drops to his knees, “please no, not now, please stop,” Cisco begs, not knowing who he’s praying to. “ _Please.”_ He feels the fear, the sudden growing fear of the _Fate of the Seas_ evacuating, the Captain knowing the ship will go down before everyone else, and knowing he will die with it.

Suddenly Hartley is panicking too. He’s scared, realizing the implications.

Specters run past them, passing through, left behind.

“Please make it stop, please,” Cisco mutters, terrified.

“Something happened,” Hartley says.

“And it’s all my fault.” Cisco says, “It’s all my _fault.”_

“No it’s not, what can I do?”

“The navigation systems, we didn’t account for what we might get into getting back on course!”

“Oh shit.”

“Hartley,” Cisco holds up his hand, “Save yourself. Save the rest of us. _Save me.”_

Cisco let’s go of Hartley’s hand, and tries to shove him away.

Hartley is having none of that.

“Quit being so dramatic, you’re coming with me!”

Hartley doesn’t know exactly what he’s aiming to do when he lunges towards Cisco as hard as he can. The vibe fades from his eyes as he tackles Cisco to the floor.

For Hartley, everything goes dark. For Cisco, his world goes black and he just wants to throw up.

Naturally, Hartley comes to on top of Cisco, body draped over the other man. He must have fallen over sometime during the vibe, and Cisco hadn’t bothered to try and push him off. Yet.

Cisco comes to shortly after, and opens his eyes to see Hartley staring at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. The vibe, the things that had happened in the vibe, it’s all too much. Hartley scrambles off of Cisco, scratching his head and face going red.

Cisco doesn’t look much better. “So uhhh, let’s—”

“We _aren’t_ talking about it,” Hartley insists.

Cisco holds up his hands, but abruptly makes a beeline for the nearest trashcan, throwing up into it. Hartley runs over with him, and grabs Cisco’s hair before it can get caught in the mess. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until it’s already done.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Cisco says, voice wrecked and tired when he could finally breathe.

“Good,” Hartley says, then adds, stupidly. “I only helped you because you needed me.”

Hartley’s face goes red again, and he can’t see Cisco’s but it’s also turning crimson.

“I mean,” Hartley backpedals. “What I meant to say was I’m just trying to do the right thing and help out a friend.”

_Ouch._

“Yeah,” Cisco’s voice is quieter now. “Sure. _Friend_.”

Cisco shoves Hartley off of him and pushes away the trashcan, stands up, and walks over to his station, not saying another word to Hartley for a very long time.

Hartley corrects their course easily, plotting a path that goes around the treacherous rocky seas they’d been headed towards before with the hopes that it will alleviate Cisco’s vibe.

Hartley sighs and stares out the window, eventually drifting off to keep with their schedule.

 


	29. Red is a Good Color on You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The theme for this chapter [Parallel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWVNbXvIpxU) by Laura Brehm. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Harleen Quinzel is surviving off twenty-minute naps and sheer will to stay awake. In between naps she’s sure to move constantly, and this usually translates into an acrobatics show with no audience. It isn’t a perfect system, but it’s going to keep the ship moving until she and her new friends can get to the Isle.

There’s a part of her that just wants to go home and forget about the wild atmosphere that her life has become.

But she’s Harley Quinn, and she knows she wouldn’t trade this craziness for _anything._

But even if she’s having the time of her life in between brief and fleeting thoughts of returning home, she isn’t sure how she is going to explain this to her boss.

“Maybe I won’t have to explain at all,” she says to herself, flipping up on top of one of the pipes that’s cooler to the touch and doesn’t try to melt her shoes. She’s going to take them off if that happens again, happily risking an accidental burn in lieu of ruining her shoes. She needs them for when she walks off this ship. No one can know what went wrong. Just now her maneuver had almost been a crisis. But she survived. She crouches, bored and yawning.

In another part of the ship, Barry is zooming through hallways, archways, and common areas, decorated with everything from faux gold leafing to standard and obviously inexpensive carpet. After parting ways with Len after dinner—and only after promising to return to him—he sets out to bring Harley some food.

Barry moves through the deep bowels of the ship, passing by rooms with small labels detailing what’s on the other side. These hallways have no carpet, just hardwood flooring that can withstand the force that’s put on them every day. Some sections are grated, water vapor escaping at his feet as he moves, while others merely have wood so worn that Barry is amazed he has enough friction to run.

He sees the sign that reads _Engine Room_ and breathes a sigh of relief that comes with the knowledge that he’d remembered how to get here. With less than a second’s thought, he phases through the door.

“Harleen Quinzel!” Barry enters the engine room in full Flash apparel not so subtly, and Harley nearly falls off of her perch, turning her fall into a swing at the last moment to avoid injury.

She brushes off his entrance and her reaction with ease. “Barry Allen! The _Flash,”_ Harley makes several grand gestures with her hands.

He clears his throat. “Room service is here! Well, rather, it’s time to order your room service because I’m here?” Barry pauses, not sure how to continue, and then it comes to him in the form of a very awkward sentence. “I’m your room service! So, uh, may I take your order?”

Barry realizes then that he would make a terrible waiter.

“Engine room service?” Harley winks and Barry grins, grateful she hadn’t decided to make fun of him. “What can I order, Mr. Allen?”

Barry is surprised by the honorific but goes with it. “Anything on the ship within reason,” Barry answers, taking off his cowl. “If you want a side from the dining room meal tonight and a drink from the Island bar on deck thirteen, then I can get you that. And if you want everything from the smoothie place, there’s no problem with that either. I’m a speedster, after all.”

Barry mimics one of her earlier grand gestures, but Harley doesn’t react. Her mind had frozen at the words ‘Island Bar’. That’s where Red works. Harley couldn’t—

She’s spitting out the words before she can turn back. “Can I also request you deliver a note?”

Barry is taken aback at that. He’d been expecting food. Lots of food. “Sure,” he says tentatively. “But who are you sending it to exactly? And you can’t tell anyone what’s going on. ”

Harley steps forward, and Barry notices she’s still wearing her shoes even after all of those acrobatics. Her height doesn’t match his, but she’s tall enough to not be dwarfed by him. “There’s a girl that works at the Island Bar—and I don’t know if she’s on shift now, but I want to try anyway—and I want to tell her something.”

Barry nods. “Whatever you say then, as long as it’s not about this _situation,”_ Barry gestures to the ship that surrounds them, and Harley gets the idea., “the that’s fine. Just let me get—”

Harley pulls out of pen from nowhere, and runs over to the consoles to grab a piece of paper. She scribbles for a short amount of time given the volume of writing she’s inflicting on that page and before long she has a note, folded and sealed with tape. ‘Red’ is written in flowing cursive on the front, and Barry is impressed, taking the offered article and putting it in a special pocket in his suit.

Then Harley finally gives her order. “I’ll have two sandwiches from the Island Restaurant on deck thirteen. Ham and cheese is fine. Grab me a drink from wherever.” Harley says. “But if you can get that note to that bartender, I would have had my day made.”

Barry mockingly salutes her, and this time it’s him who adds the honorific. “You got it, Dr. Quinzel!”

Barry speeds away—but only after Harley waves goodbye and blows him a kiss—quickly changes in his room, and then calmly heads up to the thirteenth deck, note and food order in tow.

~~~~~~~~

The Island Bar is a Polynesian bar situated on the thirteenth deck. The supports to the bar have many carved and painted faces stacked on top of one another, and lanterns hang from the ceiling, lighting up the bar in yellows, reds, and oranges. The roof is wooden, as are the chairs, and several tiki torches light up whatever the lanterns can’t.

Pamela Isley opens the note under the wooden, resin-coated counter after the man who delivered it walks away. She’s apprehensive, expecting a phone number. While men regularly give their phone number to her on a napkin—and none of them are subtle about it—a phone number is the opposite of what she finds.

_Red,_

_Figured you could use a pick-me-up. Of course, since you can’t drink on the job, I’ll give you the sober version._

_Muddle six raspberries and seven mint leaves, then add one eighth of a cup of sugar syrup, one tablespoon of lime juice, and shake it all up with ice. Add half a cup of mineral water and garnish, if you like that kind of thing (I do)._

_It tastes good with and without a quarter cup of rum added before shaking ;)_

_I called it a Raspberry Quinn when I was younger, but it’s really just a mojito I’ve perfected over the years._

_Enjoy,_

_-Harley_

Pamela all at once wants to squeal and scream and shriek.

_The girl had contacted her._ The _girl._

She frantically waves down Barry, who now holds two wrapped sandwiches in his hands.

She practically screams when she finally talks. “Who gave you this note?”

Barry is unsure of how to answer that and adjusts his hold on the sandwiches to quell his nervousness. He’d scratch his neck but that’s not currently an option given that he also has a water bottle in his other hand. “I’m not at liberty to say?”

Like _that_ isn’t the voice of someone who’s guilty. He knows and just doesn’t want to tell her. Pamela sighs. “Can you wait three minutes? I need to make a drink and write a note back. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The man nervously looks around, looking as if he’s on the fence and Pamela doesn’t like that, but she gets to work anyway. She might be able to play to his nervousness by shoving the items in his hands and hiding under the bar counter if need be.

She’s already making the drink when Barry says, “She can’t drink anything alcoholic right now. She’s, uh, working.”

Without hesitation, Pamela dumps out the fraction of the drink she’d made, and starts over, trying to figure out what virgin drinks she has that she thinks _Harley_ would like.

Harley.

She likes that name very much.

Pamela settles on a virgin Poison Ivy, because she knows Harley will understand that she’d been remembered.

She rapidly scribbles a reply on her notepad and hands it to the man, not even bothering to fold it. Although imagining Harley opening the note and smiling as she undoes the last fold…

She rips the note out of his hand, folds it, gives it back and lets out a nervous laugh.

“Drink’s on me,” she says when Barry starts offering her cash, the water bottle tucked under his armpit. He’s not sure how he’s going to carry everything until Pamela offers to hold the water bottle for him behind the bar.

“You can come back and get it later,” she smiles. “Something tells me this might not be your last trip. If it is, you at least know you have water here that you don’t have to pay for.”

Barry nods rapidly. “Thank you so much!” They exchange drinks, and Barry laughs inwardly at the possibility that he would be the messenger between two women who so clearly want the other.

He needs to get them on a date.

“Thanks,” Barry tells her, not sure what he’s thanking her for but doing it anyway to be polite. He bids Pamela adieu, and when he’s out of her and any other passengers’ line of sight, nyooms back to the engine room.

~~~~~~~~

Harley sips the drink and stares at the note in her hands.

_Harley,_

_I got your note and thank you for the recipe. I’ll try it the first chance I get, and I can’t wait to do so. I made you an extra large Poison Ivy to get you through your shift—alcohol free of course since the man who delivered your note informed me you were working—and I’d like it if you came and visited me. I’m on shift until midnight but usually the crowds die down around ten._

_And I hate to break it to you, but you can’t call me Red anymore._

_The name’s Pamela._

_Until next time,_

_Pamela_

Harley starts jumping up and down, and places the drink on the floor so that she can jump up on a pipe and then jump down from it dramatically. Barry stands nearby, out of the radius of her antics and asks, “well, what did she say?”

Harley claps her hands, note barely hanging on in between two fingers. “I think she _likes_ me!”

Barry laughs. “So do you want to be a thing or—”

“ _Maybe,_ ” Harley says gleefully, effortlessly cutting Barry off and shoving the note in his face. “Read it!”

Barry does because he doesn’t have a choice, and lets out a whistle when he’s done.

He hands the note back to her. “She’s into you.”

Harley just nods really fast and does the same swing maneuver she’d done several moments before to get out excess energy, which according to Barry, she has a lot of.

Barry smiles when she’s close to being stable in location again. He’s about to set her off again and he’d be lying if he says he isn’t a little smug about it.

“…do you want to send another note?” he asks.

Harley’s smile gets bigger and she continues to nod.

Barry speeds over to grab her more pen and paper.

~~~~~~~~

Pamela is finding it hard to work properly. Every time she makes a Poison Ivy—and she makes a lot of them—she thinks of Harley, and then that distracts her from making other drinks. It’s not that Harley has made her bad at her job by any means, but Pamela is quite smitten.

This level of being smitten doubles when she gets another note.

When the customers seem to give her a break, she slides as far away from them as she possibly can and opens the note with breakneck speed.

_Hey, Red,_

_I’m still going to call you that because it’s cute. I’ll do what I can to see you at the end of my shift. I’m not sure when it ends—I work in the engine room—but I’d love to see you again and have some more drinks. Though I’ll have to keep it light on the booze because I do have another shift before the sun rises._

_Thank you for the Poison Ivy. It’s actually pretty hydrating when there’s no alcohol!_

_I’ll hopefully see you soon ;)_

_-Harley_

Back in reality, Pamela can hardly breathe.

_She actually wants to see me?_ She thinks, her heart doing a flip she hasn’t felt in a long time.

A man speaks close by, probably for the third time since Pamela dove into her thoughts. “Hey, one mojito please?”

She cracks a smile, thinking of Harley’s note. “Do you mind if it’s raspberry?”

“Not at all,” the man says, voice a little too desperate for her liking. “Just give me _something.”_

Pamela smiles the whole time she makes the drink, and it turns out to actually be the most perfect mojito recipe Pamela has ever had.

_See you soon, Harley._

~~~~~~~~

Barry is in Len’s bed before Len has a chance to lock the door. Taking one blanket and then the other, Barry wraps himself up and sighs, content. Len looks at him in confusion.

“How are you not overheating?” Len tries to pull a blanket away but Barry is having none of it.

Barry laughs, “I never said I wasn’t. It’s just nice to burrito up sometimes, so to speak, especially after a long day.” The speedster them vibrates his way out of the covers, still lying there, and Len blinks a few times. It’s Barry’s only indication that the other man is surprised.

But Len still takes the opportunity, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself over the speedster without any level of shame. He leans down, one arm supporting him while the other caresses Barry’s cheek, and gently kisses him.

But Barry sighs again and shoves Len off lighting. Len goes, unable to refuse him. When both are settled, Barry is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Len, and Len is propped up on his elbows, laid back on the bed.

“What’s up, Barry?” Len asks without a hint of malice in his voice, drawl clear.

Barry turns around and lies on Len’s legs. “Harley has a bartender friend she wants to hang out with. I figure we can help her out, because being stuck in the engine room all day long isn’t fun,” Barry informs, crawling up to sit next to Len with his back to the headboard. Len does the same, scooting up to mirror him. Before long, Len has his legs draped over Barry’s own.

Len then asks the important question. The one that Barry has been avoiding. “Who will run the engine room?”

Barry sighs for the third time and lazily points to himself.

“You can’t—”

Barry gives Len the hand, a silent way of urging the older man to shut up and let him finish. “Harley and I’s plan is for me to run the engine room and keep everything in check while she goes on her date,” Len pokes Barry’s foot and Barry pokes back. Barry attempts to continue despite the distraction. “She’s telling me that around the time of the date nothing should have to be done. A lot of the system does go on auto, and her job is primarily addressing alarms and whatnot, so a lot of her time is sitting—or for her, swinging.” Len grabs Barry’s hand and Barry squeezes back.

“But what about normal adjustments?” Len asks, clearly still concerned.

“Harley will be taking some bathroom breaks where she checks on all of it,” Barry informs. “We have it covered, believe me we talked about everything.”

“Not everything _,_ you can’t know about everything _.”_ Len argues.

“Len, it’s enough,” Barry sits up and puts a gentle hand on Len’s face, their hands still linked. Barry gives a reassuring squeeze but Len doesn’t return it. “Don’t you trust me by this point?”

Len moves his hand out of Barry’s, shifting it to a caress rather than a hold. “Barry, I don’t trust anyone.” The younger man tries to pull his hand away but Len hangs onto it. He’d been expecting that kind of reaction. “But you make me feel much safer than the average person, so yes. I’ll trust you _on this_ but _only this._ For now.”

It’s enough for Barry.

~~~~~~~

Harley isn’t ready for this.

She hadn’t expected Pamela to return her affections so quickly. It had been a guess, a minor pursuit, and an _experiment._ She’d never thought it could have turned into something.

And they might be a thing after this, right?

She just hopes her outfit is enough. She just hopes her laugh is enough. She just hopes _she_ is enough.

She had the thought to at least change into her spare uniform—thank goodness she’d brought it—and she reclaimed her heels. Harley decided not to wear the lab coat, as that might give the wrong impression, and the last thing she wants is Pamela asking questions she’s not ready to answer.

So as she steps off the elevator onto deck thirteen, she’s nervous. By the time she’s weaving through hallways, she’s jittery, and when she rounds the corner to make a beeline for the Island Bar she’s flat out _shaking._

Carefully walking up to the bar, she spots Pamela—who fortunately hasn’t seen her yet—and puts on her best mask of confidence. Pamela is wiping down the bar, so focused that she doesn’t notice the woman who sits on a wooden stool in front of her.

“Hey, Red!” Harley’s nervousness fades all at once. “It’s me, Harley!”

Pamela looks up, startled, and then smiles so warmly that Harley’s heart melts. Her features soften and Harley is a puddle on the floor.

“Yeah, that’s me,” She says, then gestures to the bar. “I do have drinks, you know, if you want anything. My quota wasn’t reached today so I have a little left over.”

Harley nods rapidly and cocks a wicked smirk. “Lay it on me, I’m all in. But, light on the alcohol, please.”

“You got it,” Pamela disappears behind the counter and then puts on a show. She dramatically pours liquids from three feet in the air and spins glasses like an expert. Within minutes there are two certifiably black cocktails sitting on the newly cleaned bar counter, condensation just barely collecting on the sides of the glasses. “I call this one the _Dark Knight._ It’s got some berry flavors I think you’d like, since you seemed to enjoy the _Poison Ivy.”_

Harley twirls her fingers until she can happily take the dark drink off of the counter. Then she sips it and swears she sees stars, the berry notes hiding the taste of what Harley assumes is vodka, and mint makes the perfect finish.

“Okay,” Harley takes another sip because she just _has_ to. “This is _amazing.”_

Pamela certifiably blushes. “Thanks, it’s another one of my recipes,” her face grows solemn. “It’s been a long day, so it’s…nice to hear that someone likes one of my drinks,” Pamela takes a sip and Harley does too. “I don’t get much feedback you know, with all the hit and runs I get here. It is a cruise ship after all.” Pamela’s face drops further and Harley wants nothing more than to fix it immediately.

“Well, if it helps,” Harley can’t believe what she’s about to say. “It’s been a long day for me too. I work in the engine room and we had some issues to address today which took some time and a lot of effort on my part. So, you’re not alone.” Harley sees Pamela’s face relax slightly, and it gives Harley a small sense of accomplishment.

Pamela suddenly grabs her own drink and holds it up. “To us and our ridiculous workdays,” she says as Harley lifts her own. Glass clinks, and they both smile. Harley sees the curve of Pamela’s lips and the warmth of her smile, and the sparkles in her eyes form such a beautiful constellation that Harley feels like she’s flown into outer space.

“So… I have to ask you something,” Harley puts her drink down on the table, never one for subtlety with her feelings.

Pamela looks at her quizzically and Harley takes that as an invitation to continue.

“Is this a date?” Harley says it so quickly Pamela almost has to tell her to repeat herself. “Because I want it to be a date.”

Pamela laughs, finally getting the picture of what Harley had been trying to say. “Of course it’s a date, Harley! I _asked you out._ ”

“On a napkin!” Harley retorts.

Pamela grins. “Hey, I got you here, didn’t I?” Pamela points out, and Harley can’t deny it.

Harley’s blush is apparent to Pamela even in the dim lighting of the deck. “Y-yes, yes you did.”

“To us,” Pamela holds up her drink again, and Harley holds up hers with new meaning. “And whatever the future may hold.”

“To us,” Harley echoes, clinking her drink.

_~~~~~~~~~~_

“That was exhausting,” Barry says, plopping down on Len’s bed again. He’d run the engine room for only an hour but it had been enough to wear him out.

Len joins Barry on his bed for the second time in the last few hours. “At least nothing went wrong,” Len points out. He’d been talking to Mick for the last hour about their plans for the heist, updating them to make sure they can accommodate for any extraneous events.

Barry inhales, then exhales and inhales again. “This time,” he points out. “And don’t say that out loud! You’re going to jinx us! We already have enough bad luck as it is,” Barry’s voice drops to a whisper. “And whoever did this might be able to hear us.”

Len laughs. “Scarlet, if they can hear us I’d be a little bit more worried about the other things you’ve said,” Len says, moving so that he’s shoulder to shoulder with the newly turned crimson speedster. Len chooses to rub it in, just to see if it’s possible for Barry’s face to become redder. “Specifically _to me._ In _bed.”_

“Y-yeah I get it.”

“Good, now, may I—”

Barry cuts him off with a kiss, swinging one leg over Len’s form and then staying on top of him. Len wriggles a little, but doesn’t try to throw Barry off, far too sleepy to think much about it.

“May you what? Hmm?” Barry stares down at Len, face dark. He yawns.

“Now, _Barry,_ don’t make me answer that.” Len says playfully, then yawns as well, returning to his resting smirk when he’s done.

“Maybe I will,” Barry says, and the implications are not lost on Len. But he abruptly gets off of him. “Tomorrow. I’m too tired to do anything else today.”

Len doesn’t argue with him, snuggling up after swinging the covers over both of them.

They’re both asleep in minutes.


	30. Coffee and Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Long time no see, here' the songs for this chapter: 
> 
> Cisco is definitely listening to [the acoustic version of Woke the F*ck Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SPsD_oXEXY) by Jon Bellion this chapter.

Len wakes up next to Barry and carefully extricates himself from where he’s holding the speedster. They’d fallen asleep similar to the night before with Len holding Barry tight and Barry cozying up to him.

Much to Len’s chagrin, Barry is a lighter sleeper than Len had originally thought so when Len stands up, Barry’s hand flashes out, full speed, to firmly grip Len’s wrist in an attempt to pull him back into the bed.

Len isn’t having it and gently twists out of the hold. Barry doesn’t fight him. “Barry, I can’t, I have to go check on my _Rogues Gallery._ And you should probably go check on your precious _Team Flash_.”

Barry whines, opens his eyes, and then sits up because he knows that Len is right, even if the way he had gone about doing so isn’t sitting nicely with Barry.

“Alright,” Barry’s voice is groggy and thick with fatigue, even after sleeping for seven hours uninterrupted. His hair is disheveled, the brown strands flattened against the left side of his head and fluffed on the right. “I’ll go. Thanks for letting me stay here, Len.” Barry moves to the door.

Len makes sure Barry hears him when he says, “I’m serious when I say you’re welcome in my bed anytime.” Barry understands and flashes away immediately so that Len can’t see how red his face gets.

Nor his reaction to how much the speedster likes the idea.

~~~~~~~~

Len finds Mick sipping black coffee on the mini golf course. The area inhabited by the attraction is small, but besides this, Mick is unoccupied. Len walks up to his partner, and sees that close by there’s another coffee cup with a large _SNRT_ written on the side in messy, chunky capital letters. Len picks it up. Sipping, he finds that it’s tailored perfectly to how he likes it despite the written indication that something is on Mick’s mind. His partner’s handwriting would have been neater and more accurate otherwise.

Mick had been expecting him.

The aforementioned man doesn’t look up at Len’s approach, so Len realizes he has to announce his presence. “What are you doing on a golf course, Mick?” Len asks, taking another sip of his drink.

Mick hits a hole in one, gives himself a mental high five, and then turns to Len. “No one is here yet because it’s so early,” Mick still doesn’t look at him, already focused on the next hole. “And it calms me.”

Len laughs like he doesn’t believe him. “Do you not want to set it on fire?”

“Never said I didn’t think about it, Snart,” Mick smiles, then queues up another ball at the next hole. Len follows him. “But I won’t do it. If the ship burned we’d either burn with it or have to stay in tiny boats on open water for an indefinite amount of time, and I have no desire to do either.”

Len almost chokes on his coffee. He had always been fond of Mick’s reasoning.

“But I have a question for you too,” Mick pauses in his game and finally looks Len in the eyes. “And that’s why I was hoping you’d show up.”

Something doesn’t sit right with Len in that moment. “And what’s that exactly?”

“You little speedster lover,” Len doesn’t like where this is going. “What’s going to happen to him when we have to go after the mask? What’s going to happen to him when we get back to Central City?” Mick takes a few measured steps forward. “What’s your plan, Snart _?”_

The answer Len wants to give and needs to give are two very different things.

He settles for an odd combination of the two, unsure of what else to do.

“I don’t know what Barry wants, so I’ll leave the Central City portion up to him,” Len leisurely drinks his coffee, a sharp contrast to the fluttering heartbeat inside of his chest. “I don’t plan on ‘changing my ways’ or ‘turning myself in’ so if he wants me when we get back that’s up to him,” Len says, taking a breath as his face grows slightly somber. Mick might be able to tell, but Len doubted it. “But he’s a hero, and I’m a villain _,_ so I don’t think it would actually work out,” Len’s face flips to one of determination and relentlessness and his eyes narrow. “As for the mask, the plan still stands. Period. It will be ours.”

Mick smiles with his favorite psychopathic grin and Len smirks back at him.

Mick moves over to where Len stands after leaning his golf club against a nearby wall. “That’s what I wanted to hear, Snart,” Mick claps his hand on Len’s back. “Now, wanna play a round with me? I hear you’re pretty good at this.” Mick elbows him a little, and Len knows he can’t refuse.

“Sure,” Len says, and walks off to find a club, hoping that Mick still believes him tomorrow.

But Len doesn’t believe a word of what he’d said. While he is the villain and Barry is the hero, Len doesn’t want their tryst to end on the _Fate of the Seas._ He doesn’t want to stop seeing Barry. Barry is fun in ways that diamonds and stealing aren’t. He’s exciting in a way that makes Len’s heart sing, and the song is something Len wants to put on repeat.

Call him selfish, but he wants Barry Allen. All of Barry Allen.

And while he might know how to get that, he’s not sure he could keep it.

So, in the end, Len doesn’t want to think about what happens after the _Fate of the Seas._

~~~~~~~~~~

Hartley is paranoid for the rest of the night, and for good reason. He’s still not over everything that had happened in Cisco’s vibe, let alone that Hartley had been in one of Cisco’s vibes.

Hartley shivers in his chair, and then he thinks he hears Cisco making more crying noises and Hartley gets paranoid.

He turns up his earbuds to a more sensitive frequency—far outside what traditionally people can hear—and he hears crying noises, yes, but also a fairly normal—

_thump             thump            thump thump._

It quickly dawns on Hartley what he’s hearing and _why._

Cisco’s heartbeat.

“Cisquito,” he says softly, and the beating grows faster instantly.

_Thump thump thump thump thump._

_“_ I know you’re awake, just come over here,” Hartley sighs when Cisco doesn’t follow his words. “And I know you’re crying too. It’s fine. You’ve been through a lot and… I’ve seen worse. In others and myself.”

_Thumpthumpthumpthumthump._

It takes a few seconds but the thumps become more even after such a rapid increase, and something about hearing Cisco’s heartbeat intrigues Hartley, but he also feels like he’s cheating at life.

He discretely turns the sensitivity on his ear buds to a more traditional setting and the thumping goes away, bringing Hartley back to what he considers to be a normal reality. Hartley gives one spin in his chair while waiting for the other to get up, and then a messy mop of brown hair peeks over the navigational console farthest away from him.

Cisco walks over, eyes swollen and red, and sits down in the swivel chair next to Hartley. He leans back and crosses his arms, guarding himself automatically.

Had Hartley really done that badly?

Hartley shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “I… I need you to give me a minute to say something, just, don’t interrupt me, okay?” Hartley’s eyes meet Cisco’s, almost pleading but Hartley would never admit to that, and the other man’s eyes narrow suspiciously, still showing the signs of having just shed tears.

Hartley doesn’t expect Cisco to actually give him what he’s asked for, so it doesn’t surprise Hartley when he doesn’t. “No guarantees,” Cisco grumbles and Hartley accepts it.

Hartley bites back the rude reply he’d been thinking of, and keeps talking, actively willing himself to be kinder. “I.. I’m sorry about what I said last night when we came out of your dre— _vibe._ I—”

Cisco cuts him off without thinking and doesn’t regret it. “—was afraid of your own feelings and covered it up with sarcasm and callousness because you didn’t know what else to do with it.”

Hartley snaps his mouth shut and Cisco feels something close to smugness but is more akin to shame. What had happened between him and Hartley had been broken, borne more of fear and desperation than something real.

Cisco wants real.

“Tell me I’m wrong, _Hart.”_ At the mention of his pet name Hartley wants to certifiably die. With the way Cisco’s looking at him—eyes slightly wet and bogged down with a bone deep weariness than no amount of sleep can fix—Hartley won’t last long anyway.

When Hartley speaks, his voice is the smallest Cisco has ever heard it. “You’re not.” Hartley nervously taps his foot on the wooden floor of the bridge.

Cisco uncrosses his arms slowly and leans forward, gesturing to either side of himself. “So now that everything is out there, are you still going to try and hide?”

It’s almost like Cisco is desperate, yes, Hartley decides. But the other man isn’t desperate for attention, or admiration, or help. He’s desperate for a human connection, one that Hartley had given him and then taken away just as fast.

Hartley had been an _asshole._

And now he has to make it up to the man across from him.

Hartley shakes his head in reply to Cisco’s question and grabs the other’s hand. To his relief, Cisco cautiously lets him.

“Not if I can help it,” Hartley leans slowly towards Cisco, and he’s grateful that Cisco can’t hear his heartbeat, because it is beating wildly out of control and Hartley has no control over stopping it.

A slender hand comes up to cup Cisco’s jaw, touch feather light before making full contact. Hartley uses the hand to tilt his head, angling his face to the side so that Hartley can take a deep breath, close his eyes, and press his lips to the other man’s.

Well, he tries to.

Barry Allen is suddenly right there and Hartley is not about to kiss his maybe-former nemesis in front of his maybe-former-nemesis’ best friend.

Hartley pulls back before Cisco reacts.

“Goddamnit, Barry!” Cisco yelps and pulls his hand from Hartley’s out of pure embarrassment. Hartley’s hand drops from Cisco’s face immediately, and the two shove back from one another to be as far away from each other as possible.

Barry’s face is as red as his suit. He looks mortified. “Uh, Cisco, you—?”

“—Don’t worry about it _,”_ Cisco grits out quickly, moving further away from Hartley automatically.

“Seems like _you_ are,” Hartley looks at him, then at Barry, then back at Cisco. Sure, he’s pushing his luck, but he’s never been one for social skills.

“Hartley….” Cisco says with more than a hint of warning to his tone.

Hartley matches it effortlessly. “Cisquito…”

Barry hates everything.

He doesn’t need to see Cisco kiss anyone let alone Hartley Rathaway _._ Don’t they hate each other?

He voices it. “What the fuck? Don’t you guys hate each other?”

Cisco laughs and Hartley laughs with him. Cisco wipes the tears from his eyes. “You’re hardly one to talk Barry. You’re literally sleeping with the enemy. We haven’t done that.”

“Yet,” Hartley adds unhelpfully and Cisco shoots daggers at him with his eyes.

Barry laughs nervously to break some of the awkwardness. “I just needed to make sure you two were…okay.” Everyone in the bridge knows Cisco and Hartley are anything but okay. “We’ve got another long day ahead of us and I figured you two would want to eat this morning.”

“I could go for bagels again, thanks,” Cisco says flatly, gaze still fixed on Hartley.

“Agreed,” Hartley says absently.

Barry looks between the pair and then flashes away before things can get more awkward and to avoid the image of Hartley undressing Cisco with his eyes any more than he already has.

“You think he’s gone?” Hartley says after several minutes of tense silence have passed in which neither co-captain has decided to talk to the other. Hartley’s foot has started tapping again, and Cisco is nervously wringing his hands.

“For now, maybe. Forever? Not a chance. But he’s gone for the time being, which means we’re alone again and…” Cisco’s face turns bright red as his voice trails off into a squeak before Hartley can say anything.

“May I…?” Hartley looks to Cisco’s lips, then his eyes, and his intentions are clear.

Cisco gulps and gives a nod of his head. It’s short, but it’s enough for Hartley, because in less than a second Hartley has grasped Cisco’s face between his hands and is kissing him with the urgency of someone who’s dying. Cisco’s arms are trapped between their bodies and Cisco grabs onto Hartley’s uniform for dear life, hands twisting the fabric because he doesn’t know what else to do except to hang on and go with it.

Hartley’s lips are soft on Cisco’s. They’re not gentle, but are highly skilled. Hartley is working Cisco’s mouth like this isn’t the first time they’ve kissed, and Cisco is being left breathless because of it. Cisco can hardly breathe, and Hartley is stealing the few breaths that he takes, drinking them in like he needs them.

Like he needs Cisco.

Hartley’s tongue parts Cisco’s lips easily, and Cisco lets him have the victory. Cisco explores what he can, but he’s more focused on trying not to fall out of his chair now that Hartley has settled on his lap.

Hartley breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Cisco’s and panting heavily.

“Hart, you—”

Hartley stops him from speaking, placing a hand on the back of Cisco’s neck and kissing him again. This on is quicker, and Hartley pulls back with a smirk.

“If I’d known this was how I could have shut you up when we were both working together at S.T.A.R. we might not have argued so much,” Hartley runs his fingers through Cisco’s tangled locks, and he so badly wants to brush them.

“No, you would have just won more arguments.”

“Your point?”

Cisco attacks Hartley this time, and after wrapping two strong arms around Hartley, he carefully maneuvers them both to the floor, laying Hartley flat on his back.

Hartley lets out a small noise of confusion along the way but is otherwise quiet. He doesn’t resist Cisco at all, settling down surprisingly easily. That is, until Cisco talks.

Cisco’s hair loosely hits Hartley’s face as he laughs. “How does it feel to look up at me?” Hartley is having none of it, grabbing Cisco’s uniform in one hand and wrapping his other arm around the small of Cisco’s back to flip their positions. Cisco exhales sharply as the ceiling—and Hartley’s shadowed face—comes into view.

Hartley speaks again after Cisco mostly gets his bearings. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Once Cisco attempts to reverse the situation, they’re full on grappling, rolling around the deck like ten year olds, hands scrabbling for purchase on the other in a desperate attempt to prove who’s dominant and who isn’t.

Cisco lands a few harsh elbows on Hartley’s ribs and Hartley gets in a few hits of his own, but nothing is lasting. It’s all playful and harmless, really, and the hits are more for impact and surprise than pain.

Cisco gets out of one of Hartley’s holds and staggers backwards, getting to his feet.

Hartley mirrors him, hands up but not in surrender. “You really wanna do this, Cisquito?”

“Depends on what I get if I win,” Cisco replies, circling him around the deck.

Hartley scoffs. “You always were smart,” Hartley actually acknowledges and Cisco is caught off guard enough that he doesn’t see Hartley in his space until it’s too late. He hits Cisco in the nose hard enough to distract him and nothing more and then grabs one of Cisco’s arms to twist it behind his back.

Cisco yelps and struggles, but Hartley doesn’t loosen his hold on Cisco’s wrist. “Gotchya,” Hartley says, grinning.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it,” Cisco says right before he catches Hartley by surprise, kicking his shin, twisting his arm away and then turning around.

In one practiced motion, Cisco grabs the front of Hartley’s uniform, steps one leg behind both of Hartley’s, and pushes.

Hartley goes flying backwards, landing on his back on the deck of the bridge with an audible thump before Cisco climbs on top of his hips, grabs his wrists, and pins them high above his head.

Before Hartley can truly acknowledge what’s happening, Cisco’s lips press against his. Hartley’s struggles cease on contact and he goes absolutely pliant, body relaxed and hands limp within Cisco’s grip.

“I win,” Cisco says against Hartley’s lips, forehead pressed against the other man’s.

Hartley merely whines and tilts his head up for another kiss. Cisco accepts and then pulls away far enough that Hartley can’t reach him.

“That’s not fair.” Hartley lays his head back against the deck, resigned. “And I want a rematch.”

“Whatever you say,” Cisco leans down and kisses the shell of his ear. “I’m still stronger than you.” A dark glint laces Cisco’s voice. “And something tells me you like it that way. Just a little.”

Cisco cuts off any of Hartley’s protests with more kisses, and quickly enough Hartley falls quiet and still under Cisco once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked this! 
> 
> Side note: any and all comments are appreciated, since I have been secretly writing this thing with me as my beta, so if you see a typo or whatever, don't hesitate! 
> 
> Also, I'm [GideonShipsIt](http://gideonshipsit.tumblr.com) on tumblr, so hit me up if you wanna blab or have any questions.


End file.
